


Of Flesh And Blood

by kritter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, a lot of abuse in this, the beginning of a long winding road
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 87,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritter/pseuds/kritter
Summary: OFAB is a series that will delve into a dynamic between Gavin Reed and RK900 that can dip into shipping territory but isn't necessarily romantic, and how it will effect their lives and characters in the long run. The plot will later delve into other characters and their interactions and reactions as well. (this wound up way longer & more complicated than I intended, lol. Feedback is appreciated!)





	1. Chapter 1

“Weakness is a physical state calculated by a decrease in energy and-slash-or motor function ability. Your reaction to it as a negative psychological status and thus wanting to dismiss it in favor of your own aggression is what seems strange to me. It makes working with you difficult. Do you think all partners go through this process, or do you enjoy making it tedious and time-consuming for myself?”

Gavin stopped in place as he stared at the RK900, unsure of how to respond before his eyebrows lowered and he huffed. It wasn’t supposed to know he felt  _weak,_  especially not caught in action, but it seemed that nothing got past a perfect computer.

“This isn’t about  _you_  and you shouldn’t give a shit what it takes to get something done or not.” RK900 considered the statement, LED blinking as its eyes scanned across the scene, looking for any other clues it might be able to find that could help them. The whole thing was messy and scattered—a pile of money, various splatters of blood but no bodies to be found, muddled with questionable involvement in a setting far out from the city. It would have considered it an event worthless of pursuing, but naturally, Gavin was insistent, and it couldn’t refuse.

“Androids don’t trust. Why do you think I should?” Acknowledging his bloodshot eyes and the way his fingertips twitched, it did a reading for the caffeine content in his blood, quickly identifying it as at least part of the cause for his temperament and behavior.

“I never asked you to trust me, detective.” Gavin fumed, feeling dismayed at his own skip over the conversation. Did he make that part up in his head? 34 hours of insomnia had the tendency to blur the lines between reality, dreams, and useless brain fuzz. Sometimes there were still shadows that would flicker in the corners of his vision, and the 900 reminded itself that Gavin was a bit more  _difficult_  than most to earn civil interaction from. Lieutenant Anderson seemed like a walk in the park in comparison, but maybe that was only because it’d mostly seen him and Connor on friendly terms in its short existence. Gavin treated it something like an annoyance, a threat to be his downfall as well as useful tool, and not much else, only being talked to respectively when he needed or  _wanted_  something, whether it was actively important in the android’s favor or not.

“Then what  _do_  you want, smartass?” The android stared at him in that way that they all tended to do, a little too long with an expressionless face that did no favors for his irrational fears. It was awkward. It was  _unnerving_.

“I was simply stating that our objectives would go easier if you were more compliant.” Gavin laughed, but he wasn’t smiling.

“You’re funny. What’ve you found out, anyway?”

The android took note of his subject change, pulling up a photo on its hand to display to him.

“The only person that’s been here in the past 90 days was a young Native American woman. The blood matches up with hers, but there’s no trail and not a body to be found.” Gavin’s eyes narrowed as frustration dug in over the fact there was seemingly nothing else to work with, rather than accepting the hint as a step forward; another response that made the 900 shoot him a likewise glare, as mirroring him had nearly become habitual in their days together, to the point that sometimes it didn’t even notice.

“So? You just gonna stand around?” It was the android’s turn to offer him a sarcastic smile, before turning around to walk down the hall in search for more immediate clues.

“Are  _you_?” It called back to Gavin as he checked something on his phone, glaring up at the android with no verbal response, silently walking up to follow behind it.

“There’s no fingerprints…or footprints. The murderer was wearing gloves and probably something over his shoes, assuming it was a human,” it stated, considering how  _advanced_  some deviants seemed to be becoming. Gavin grumbled something under his breath, nodding towards the darkness under the bed.

“There. What’s that?” Turning its head, the RK900 pointedly looked to zoom in, finding something strange on the carpet. Dipping its fingers into it, it gave the substance a sniff, immediately identifying the source.

“Blue blood. JB400. It’s such a small amount, barely noticeable…good eye,” it offered. Gavin smirked as he was temporarily satisfied by the congratulation.

“So, what’s that mean, anyway?”

“I assume the android was slightly damaged in the process. Now, I at least have a lead. If we can find any more traces, we might be able to figure out where it came from.”

At first, Gavin hated hearing  _we_  at the beginning of its sentences, as he never liked the idea of working with teammates or partners, even humans; he considered himself working better alone, as considering his short-fuse personality, it was easy for him to get into conflicts with other people, even if they were on his side, and this was an  _android_  no less. But over time, it settled calmer on his ears, and he got used to  _sharing_  with the robot, from the passenger seat of the cruiser to his personal technology devices. He claimed the excuse of it being  _easier_  since androids could sync up with them, even though he’d never let another person lay a finger on his things if he could help it.

Somehow, the 900 had proven itself worthy.

Somehow, it  _had_  slowly, but surely, managed to gain his trust; but he didn’t want to admit it, let alone  _believe_  it.

-

The RK900 was gone in a flash, one foot in front of the other as it disappeared before Gavin could register what was going on.

“Hey! Where the hell d’you think you’re going?!” He ran a few paces forward while he tried to watch the route the android followed, only to stop as he realized he wasn’t really in the shape to go chasing inexhaustible beings.

“I have no time to explain,” it said simply, before disappearing behind the nearest building. Gavin grit his teeth, surprised to find himself annoyed at the  _lack_  of the android’s presence as much as he didn’t seem to want to hear from it. It worked hard, it did well,  _then_  it did shit like this and he didn’t appreciate not knowing what was going on, or what it was doing. That was the thing; working with a partner meant the situation wasn’t entirely under his  _control_ , a discomfort in itself. Aside from the lieutenant, he was signified as one of the best in the Precinct, and with Hank’s misbehavior, tardiness and disciplinary warnings, he’d made a strong image of himself in the influence of the DPD, even with his constant hostility. Androids were slowly marching their way up into jobs and careers, seeming to pull them from under humanity’s feet, and he’d hate nothing more than to be upstaged by a robot.  
_Fired_. The image of his father’s angry, disappointed face flashed into his mind and he walked back to his cruiser, deciding he’d drive down the road while ‘looking around’ for the android, ultimately using it as an excuse to find the next coffee shop whether  _it_  was with him or not to order something through the drive-through.

“Coffee isn’t going to solve your problems, and high amounts of caffeine are known contributors to agitation.” The RK900 somehow appeared as he didn’t catch sight of it approaching, surprised to see it leaning into his opened driver-side window while he’d been parked, arms folded against the door while it leaned forward with a casual look on its face--he spit out half a mouthful of coffee as he realized the damn thing was covered in blue blood. He wasn’t concerned,  _of course_ , just surprised.

“ **Ech** , don’t get that shit on my car,” he hissed, prompting the android to lift an eyebrow.

“You’ve drenched it in milky, sugared coffee already.”

“That blue crap stains way worse and I don’t want  _android juice_  on my nice seats.” The 900 was amused at the fact he avoided the commonly used term for blue blood, and then seemed confused that Gavin didn’t question its appearance, but simply told it to keep away from the nice car. Leaning away from the vehicle, it pulled off its jacket, wiping away some of the excess that was smeared across its face.

“The job is done. We can go home now.” The corner of Gavin’s lip twitched as the word  _home_  rung strangely in his ears, but he assumed it meant nothing by it.

“What, did the damn thing explode? You look like you fell in a puddle of the stuff.” RK900 offered a small, but knowing smile.

“Something like that. Do you want me to walk?” For a moment, Gavin almost felt guilty, before remembering that it didn’t matter, and that he was giving this android more humanity than it frankly deserved in a moment of forgetfulness over the fact they didn’t grow tired, like he would.

“Yeah. Go uh, update Fowler, or something. I didn’t wanna see his face today anyway.”

“He’s your boss, but fair enough.” Gavin ignored it, rolling up his window with relief that the workday was finally over.

-

He didn’t expect it to be in his living room before he was, urging a sense of panic to crawl up his spine even though he’d already unlocked and re-locked all the latches on the front door. The android didn’t have a key, so how had it gotten in?

“The fuck?” Despite his typical outburst, the RK900 gave him a usual, polite greeting, now standing clean in fresh clothes.

“You’ll be  _unhappy_  to know one of your windows is susceptible to breaking in. I would have waited in your driveway, but frankly, the alternative entry was more enticing.” Gavin massaged his forehead with a tight blink, before looking above his living room couch.

“That window?”

“No.” Gavin narrowed his eyes. There was only the kitchen, the hallway, the back door, and…

“Your bedroom. The inside handle was open. I don’t imagine you  _forgot,_  did you?”

Gavin felt like he was losing his mind in a rather literal sense as he had no recollection of doing such a thing. He never touched that window—never needed to, as his room was his most private space and thus, the window remained shut and the blinds remained closed. Often, he locked the bedroom door as well, even if he was the only one home, an old habit that had long since carried on from when he shared a house with others.

“No one’s been here,” he said out loud, mostly to reassure himself. His eyes darted down the hall, but he was suddenly uncomfortable making the trek to his room. Acknowledging there was a spike in his anxiety, the RK900 simply walked past him and towards the bedroom, itself.

Gavin felt foolish as old nightmares threatened to seep into his sleep-deprived mind again. He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t that late; definitely not late enough to go to bed.

“Detective…” Snapping out of a disassociation spell, he looked down the hallway and followed the voice.

“Stay the fuck outta my room, and you don’t come into this house without me ever again,” he snapped, nearly colliding shoulders with the android as he walked briskly past it. Turning on the bedroom light, he looked around, checking to see if anything was out of place that supposedly hadn’t been touched in the last 9 work hours.

Certainly, he was overreacting, and he’d forgotten to lock the window in a moment of distraction. Was it this morning? Every day was becoming more unclear as he felt the shift in his mind, like concentrating was becoming harder, and he couldn’t think as well. When did that start? How long had it been going on?

“I know you haven’t taken them today.” Upon hearing those words, anger abruptly boiled under his skin, knowing what it was referencing to.

“The ones you’re  _supposed_  to, I mean.” The condescending tone of its voice made him seethe.

“Shut the  _fuck up_!” The RK900 stared at him when he raised his voice, and that was part of what he hated about androids. They didn’t  _do_  anything; no emotion, no life, they just stood there and stared with no reaction. He wasn’t sure if the RK series was particular with this, or if all androids were eerily statuesque, but either way, he didn’t like it.

“Fuckin’ snooping in my stuff like you own the place? Fuck, you’re supposed to help me on my cases, not keep personal tabs on me like a damn nanny.” The RK900 stood behind the doorway, a short distance from the bright red virtual wall that stated  **DON’T ENTER**  now hovering between them.

“You’re right,” it retorted simply. Confused, Gavin glanced back at it.

“Becoming personally involved was mostly my choice, but not one you haven’t encouraged.” Bemused, Gavin folded his arms, lifting his chin and shoulders as he practically took the phrase as an insult; the same way he often did.

“I haven’t been parked at the precinct since our second week together. You bring me with you to lunch, and to your house, even when there’s no need to.” The realization made Gavin turn around on his feet as he no longer wanted to face the thing.

“Get outta here,” he demanded urgently. An uncomfortable sensation dawned on him, one that made the 900 stop in place to scan his vitals again, sensing the imbalance, but it accepted there was nothing it could do as it turned around to walk away.

-

Waking up to the smell of coffee was an oddity, one Gavin didn’t immediately recognize until he heard the familiar sound of his alarm go off. It seemed too early, and it was  _too cold_ , cuing him to pull the comforter further up over himself with a grumble as he hit the snooze button and closed his eyes.

By the second ring, he squinted his eyes open, glaring at the window to try and gauge the weather outside. The foggy white lighting through the blinds was dim, suggesting the sun wasn’t out, and by the temperature drop, it might be snowing outside.  _Great_.

The coffee was still hot, but cooled down enough he took a sip, closing his eyes once more as he sat up in the bed, thoughts halted while he was still too tired to make sense out of anything.

The morning was slow, and his shirt and jeans were stiff and cold against his skin, chilled from the frosty air overnight. Teeth chattering, he shivered, downing the rest of the coffee, eager to feel it warm his body as he got up to stretch with a yawn and walked to the living room.

With the android nowhere in sight, he was content to find some peace, pouring another cup from the almost-full pot, finally making the connection that it was probably here to make the coffee, anyway. Wasn’t that against its instructions from last night?

Oh well.

-

“Yesterday’s case was interesting,” the RK900 brought up once it was sure Gavin was coherent enough to initiate interaction.

“The android had painted it as though it was the murderer, but it seems the woman isn’t actually dead and had sought out her own revenge.” Gavin squinted with a lethargic gaze, lacking understanding without more context.

“ _Her_  blood was a ploy, left from an expired hospital bag. She must have had a recent transfusion.” Gavin sipped away the rest of his umpteenth cup of coffee, handing the android his empty cup expectantly.

“Why go so far to paint a murder scene? And for her to be the victim?” he finally asked.

“No idea. Whatever personal relationship she had with the android must have had immense strain. The android itself was in bad shape, as well.” Walking over to the coffee machine, it filled another cup while they interacted.

“Well, where’s the woman? What’s her name again?”

“Julien Asher. I didn’t find her. The android tried to flee but I called backup in time, it’ll be taken back for analysis.” Gavin’s brows narrowed and twitched, but he nodded, seeming to finally understand its explanation, at the very least.

“So you think she’s a murderer or just really hated that android?”

“Violent outbursts weren’t uncommon in her history.” Two sugars, two creams, and stir. It handed him the fresh cup with a lid, tapping it twice in a reminder that it’s  _hot_  and not to take a drink right away. Gavin set the cup down for the moment without thinking about it.

“She lived on the native american reservation, which was why the location was so far from Detroit, and had grown up defending herself from a life physical harassment. That house wasn’t even hers. She might have had a vendetta against someone else, android or otherwise. Domestic abuse isn’t out of the question.” Gavin raised an eyebrow, leaning against the break room table.

“So, we don’t know where she is, and she might have enemies. Might have friends, too. That could be bad news for us.”

“Doubtful. The situation seems too personal to land in our hands. However, we might want to patrol around the area and see if we can’t catch another lead.”

-

The RK900 disappeared again. That time, it didn’t come back.

It didn’t arrive at work the next day, either.

“You know Cyberlife will send another one,” Fowler groused, staring Gavin down over his desk with the familiar look of  _you’re wasting my time again._

“Then why haven’t they?” Confused, his boss gave him another ugly look.

“What are you so worried about, huh? I thought you couldn’t stand the fuckin’ things,” he responded, feeling like he’d just gotten whiplash from the deja vous of repeating a similar conversation with Hank in the past. Anderson had calmed down with Connor by the look of it and maybe he could say the same for Gavin, but ultimately, he didn’t really care. He had work to do.

“Call them yourself and find out, I don’t care. Now get out of my office.” Gavin remembered the news reports about androids and how they always ended with ‘ _Cyberlife was unavailable for comment,_ ’ making him feel skeptical over the whole ordeal. Spying, hacking, physical violence among various other assumed aggressions were barely the start for a list of what those machines were capable of, and the idea of a government-issued one missing without any detail as to why made Reed feel uneasy. Part of him thought of betrayal, but his logical mind couldn’t figure out why. He blamed it on the unlocked window, the blue blood, the missing murderer, reassuring himself with the fact the RK900 was never secretive. It and its predecessor, Connor, weren’t entirely subtle about what they did and didn’t do, often speaking the obvious. But did that stop them from downloading and recording information? Having it in his house was one thing, having it missing  _after the fact_  was another. Part of his life was now implanted in that hyper-intelligent tape recorder, but he remembered it didn’t know anything it shouldn’t, nothing it could have shared that would put him in danger.

 _The medication. The behavior. The lecturing, the nagging._  Where had it gone? What was it going to do? If another one came back, would it know the same things? Leaving Fowler’s office through the glass doors, he started to pace around his desk, finding it hard to keep his attention on his terminal even as he flipped through his own files. Their most recent one was still open, without updates, pessimism creeping up on him while he realized how bothered he was over the whole ordeal. Now that he had the self-awareness, he could nudge it away and put it behind him to focus on his work, knowing he didn’t have to rely on it for everything.

Still, it was strange to make his own coffee again, and the air around his desk seemed strangely empty without it hovering over him and skimming over the records faster than he could blink. The cruiser was bare without anyone in the passenger seat. The evening felt absent without its presence, and the night seemed harder to sleep through. All in all, he pretended not to notice.

-

“The co-dependence was an unconscious habit built around your instinctual desire for safety. Those that spend time alone tend to grow  _lonely,_  you know.”

The sting in his eyes weren’t real, not any more than the fast, heavy beating of his heart, or the way he’d nearly feared for his life without the damn thing.

“I was fine without your help, thanks.” They both knew the words were hollow, but the RK900 respected his notion. Gavin felt stuck, as if his feet were suddenly too heavy to move even though he had all the freedom in the world to  _leave_. It was time to go.

“Your work declined drastically. You clocked in late. You—”

“Stop fucking  _telling me about my own life,_ ” he steamed, and finally had the energy to walk out, tossing his empty cup towards the trash; it hit the rim and bounced back out. As if it were expected to, the 900 leaned over to pick it up and throw it away properly. Standing up straight again, it waited – pursuing the problem wouldn’t solve anything or make it easier on either of them. Gavin would return the next day, if nothing else.

-

Gavin was there, but he ignored the android, leaving the 900 without a partner. Searching for an empty desk, it sat down at a terminal across the room, shifting its hands to its original white plastic form while it swiped across the screen to dig for the most recent files.

Gavin could see the updates from his own terminal, looking unamused as he clicked on a different one. The exchange was indirect, but nonetheless entertaining on both their behalves—mostly for the android as it added text to one of the reports, updating what it had seen in recent days. Once the time came, Gavin was quick to take his lunch break, dismissing the idea of spending money on food so he could buy another espresso-fueled latte in the break room and having a quick chat with Tina to take his mind off of everything.

The whole ordeal was affecting him more than he expected it to, worse than he was comfortable with. Sucking down half of the cup, he eyed the 900 from the distance, trying to figure out his own feelings on the ordeal with no avail; it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t force it to make sense. The pieces weren’t only scattered but they didn’t match, and even in his attempts to avoid the thing, it still followed him in his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's uncomfortable with a lot of the functionary aspects of androids; they touch on a heavy subject while he thinks over it.

“So, what happened to you, anyway?”

It wasn’t like he  _really_  cared, right? There was nothing else to talk about as it was, but something itched in his mind to continue. Feeling as though he was mentally grappling for straws, he wondered if it was as obvious to the android as it felt ringing in his mind. The 900’s cold stare never brought him any answers, but it stopped bringing up more questions. Maybe he was growing used to the way it looked at him, the expressions it showed, the movements, the sound of its voice…

“It wasn’t so much me as the subject that was at hand. Well, the android. I still have no definitive statistics on where the woman is, or what actually happened.”

Gavin, trying to listen through the static in his mind, remembered how he hated the way it droned on, irksome in its monotone way of speaking, using too many words and lengthy explanations when it could narrow it down, but it never did. Sometimes, in a moment of thought, it seemed like  _Connor_  even had more personality, but maybe Cyberlife had given that up in favor of whatever updates were in the similar-yet-differently-looking model. Why did they make them so human, yet not human enough? Repeating faces and numbers with the same eerie gaze on the same faces was part of what creeped him out over the whole ordeal. Puppets, dangling from the strings of human hands but sometimes they snapped, and it was almost like the creators themselves didn’t know when the things ran loose. RK900 wasn’t a person, but it wasn’t a shiny new laptop, either; it was designed to calculate things beyond human capabilities, yet wore the flesh, eyes, form and clothes of a next-door neighbor.

It was still weird. It was still unnerving. It was downright  _creepy_.

“That is to say, the self-destruction was more violent of a process than I anticipated it to be.”

_Self-destruction._

“Tell me more about that.” The android’s eyebrows twitched upward in a slight, but noticeable motion.

“About the event with the deviant? It wasn’t complicated-“

“No,” he snapped, frustrated at the fact such an advanced computer couldn’t understand voice inflections. To him, it seemed so  _simple_ , and if they were so smart, why didn’t they communicate the same?

“The self-destruction.” His voice had a bark to it that seemed to obtain the desired effect as the android finally paused, LED blinking a few times while it considered what he’d asked. The terminal at his desk worked faster than this.

“What about it?” Gavin thought about taking the question back, if it was going to be this difficult to withdraw an answer.

“How does…that work?” Trying to connect to a non-sentient being over something that was a personal,  _emotional_  aspect to humanity but a mere set of instructions for an android gave him an uncomfortable feeling he couldn’t recognize.

“Ah,” it said simply, a signal it was catching on to what he wanted explained, and more of an idea towards  _how_.

“Overwhelmed by incompetent instructions – the ones that create the false emotions that override its default programming – the deviant android seeks a way to stop the irrational code. There’s no real “escape” button, so after an extent, it has nothing to follow and it forms a sort of paradox situation.” It couldn’t entirely explain something it didn’t single-handedly understand, and Gavin could tell.

“So they kill themselves.” The words were bold and heavy, as he meant for them to be, weighted as they hung in the air. There was no way the android could feel the tension, he knew that, yet there was always the temptation to push such an aspect if only to see how they would respond.

“Not kill, as they cannot die.” It wasn’t the first time Gavin had heard it explained in such a way, but the concept was still too similar. Cyberlife – or, their original creator, Kamski – had designed them to bleed, but not to ache. They were able to shut down with damage in a similar way to human death, but they were easy to  _replace_. It was no wonder they had such an impact on modern-day society.

“What do you think the deviants think? Do they panic? Do they lash out because they don’t know what else to do? Or do you think they’re mad? If they can hold a grudge, hell, they might as well be able to commit suicide too, right?” There was a certain coldness in his eyes that the RK900 wasn’t quite familiar with, and when he was in  _moods_  like this, his behaviors were nigh on unpredictable, even in its own preconstructions. Humans were impulsive, reckless, and quick to change their minds, something that eluded the android similar to how its own way of processing ‘thought’ confused Gavin.

“If you want to see it that way…” Lowered brows knit together as the android offered him a quizzical glance. Gavin scoffed.

“Me? Like the rest of Detroit doesn’t. The damn things are designed to do it! It might be Kamski’s fault, he’s so obsessed with you fuckers you take up space like bugs. Rats. Ants. There’s parking, there’s walkways, there’s the section on the bus, like you all live your own little lives but you  _don’t_. You stand there or do what you’re told and then, what?” The glower in his eyes grew more intense, and for once, the RK900 was rendered completely speechless.

“Something happens. Nobody knows what, but I bet it’s intentional. This shit’s too common for it not to be.” Tilting his head up and leaning back, he folded his arms with an accusing stance, deliberately having an aggressive aura about him.

“You think you’d ever become deviant? Don’t lie to me. I know you’re capable of it.” Almost at a lack for words, it ushered to speak lest it somehow proved Gavin right. It’s lips parted, but it nearly seemed hesitant to speak the words it was about to.

“The percentage of deviants continue to raise as hours and days go by. I cannot admit to the unlikelihood of such an event, even if I believe in what my own programming tells me – which is no.” Gavin took a moment to consider the self-awareness of the android and what it meant in regard to how one could  _feel_. They were reaching a point the aspect could come full circle, eyes narrowing while he mulled over the answer.

“So you’re having doubts?” The android blinked.

“No. But there is a statistic likelihood that I cannot ignore.” Gavin flashed a wry, toothy smile, apparently satisfied with the results of their little exchange.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's frustration continues to overwhelm him.

“Delete everything you know about me.” Gray eyes stared into silver, just a shade lighter than his own as he sipped from his sixth cup of coffee that day.

“That’s irrational. You and I both know it.”

“I don’t care. It’s haunted me long enough. You’re a walking satellite and I don’t like it.” Its expression shifted into something like disappointment.

“You think I know you too well, so you want to sever the connection.”

“And you can share it with  _anybody._ ” Noticing he admitted to the fact, his eyes looked away with an agitated huff in spite of himself. It was too late, anyway. It knew him, from his lifestyle, his routine, his work hours down to the way he acts and speaks; it was too personal and with humans, he couldn’t remove the fact, so he kept his distance. With an android, however, it was that easy to erase an entire database as fast as he could snap his fingers.

“Why would I?” Gavin’s eyebrows lowered while he internally asked himself the same thing.

“I don’t know but I don’t care to find out.”

“Paranoia is as irrational as your fears.” As if on cue, Gavin’s teeth snapped together as he clenched his jowls without realizing it until the sting resonated in his jawbones.

“That wasn’t meant to provoke you,” it said in a voice softer than before, almost tender in its tone.

He  _hated_  that, the way it could replicate kind words and sentimental sentences, but he knew it was all fake. Fake, fake, fake. How had one genius come to make something so artificial that seemed so  _real_? This android, his ‘partner’ had become the bane of his existence, and he felt his fingers curl with the temptation to choke the damn thing.

“You’re not supposed to know. You’re not supposed to. You’re not…” What was the hour again? He felt a migraine coming on, fleeing the confrontation to rummage his bathroom medicine cabinet for the Tylenol. Usually, he just took an aspirin, but this was becoming too much, all too fast.

He didn’t hear the android’s voice and for a moment, he finally settled, feeling peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's in a lot of pain, heated, and paranoid, prompting him to lash out.

“Give me the meanest look you’ve got. Come on.”

Eyebrows narrowing, the RK900 gave Gavin a typically puzzled glare over the words coming from his mouth.

“Tell me I’m a piece of shit. Everything you know, as if I were the scum of the earth. Go on. Try it.”

“I am not angry with or at you, Gavin.” Fists clenched, he was ready to take a swing at the robot, no matter what came out of its mouth. Snow sparkled in hot white spots in front of his vision as the buzz of caffeine and stupor from the overdose of Vicodin rushed through his veins, skyrocketing his straining heartbeat with a boost to his adrenaline.

“Do it. Do it or I’ll swing first.” With its head turning to the side, the RK900 looked at him with a knowing gaze under heavy eyelids and a blink of consideration, but no other response.

“You know it won’t matter if you do. You can’t hurt me.”

“Yeah, so? That’s not the point. Anyway, you didn’t do what I told you to. So, smartass, speak up. Fists up. I don’t care.  _Let’s go_.”

‘Let’s’ gave the impression it would be a mutually desired encounter, when it wasn’t. Idling, the android felt nearly  _bored_  as it caught a fist that flied toward it, raised its knee to stop itself from being kicked with a tilt of its shin against Gavin’s, before blocking a few more punches with a similar passion.

“I knew it. Stupid things can’t even get angry,” he murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow as he shook his head.

“Drink some cold water. You’re getting a fever.”

“I already told you to stop tellin’ me what to fuckin’  _do,_ ” Gavin interrupted the android mid-sentence, speaking with slow, thick words as if enunciating so the  _stupid thing would understand_. The android sighed, a feigned response to show the supposed ‘emotion’ the detective seemed to be looking for.

“I apologize. I was programmed to adapt to people and the way they act, even if my default personality isn’t as friendly as the prototype’s.” Gavin raised his eyebrows, scoffed, and flashed a smile for half a second before it vanished, noticeably sarcastic in the milliseconds the android had to see the shift. Thinking back to Connor’s constant apologies, ass-kissing, awkward smiles, attempts at small-talk and engaging positively to  _whoever **it**  seemed to choose to_ didn’t make it ‘friendly’ in Gavin’s eyes. Computers with a personality that tried too hard was comical to him, and that was unlikely to change.

“I have listened to your orders, I have played your games and situated myself around your attitude. I have made bargains with you. I have helped you - your caffeine intake has lowered, you get more hours of sleep.” Eyebrows lowering, Gavin’s expression contorted to confusion, the irritation keeping his mouth in a tooth-baring snarl. This was literally the opposite of what he told the android to do, and he didn’t understand why it was doing it.

“You want me to tear you apart?”  **Finally!**

“You had to think that hard ‘bout it, huh? You fuckin’ hunk of garbage,” he spat, eyes narrowing as he lunged forward in a flash, the RK900 ‘letting’ him wrap his hands around its neck tight enough the synthetic skin started to blur away in its color, revealing the plastic plates and rubber muscles underneath. Gavin knew that underneath those, lining the inside of its mechanical shell was all the wires and chips, fluctuating that gorgeous sparkling blue liquid thirium with small bursts of electricity, surrounding metal bone. Cable ligaments. Corded arteries. Microphones. Speakers. USB chips. Screws and bolts.

He hated every aspect of it.

“You’re not listening to me at all, are you? What’s wrong with you? You go ‘n’ deviate, you fucked-up piece of scrap metal?” This show of frustration was different than Gavin’s usual, with grinding teeth and dilated eyes; the RK900 scanned them for the state of his brain as it lit up on its internal screen, a smaller version of how an EEG would screen an x-ray. His heartrate was at a dangerous level, likely making him dizzy and weak behind the aggression. Soon he would likely experience some confusion, followed by a burst of lethargy as the effects come down and the toxins leave his body. Until then, the android wasn’t entirely certain of how to make Gavin calm down, as there were few actions actually sufficient in a situation like this. Eventually, it decided on the probability that doing as it was asked would at least give him room to vent his frustrations, and possibly tire him out until he could sleep it off by the end. Dehydrated and haunted with his usual insomnia, the frown lines and heavy bags under his eyes were a giveaway to his mental state nearly as clear as its internal statistics.

“Do you ever think about what you say, Reed?” Its voice was only slightly quieted by the grip of his hands constricting the small chamber around its internal speech speaker.

“You are calling machines of many times greater intelligence than you – or, excuse me,  _smarter than you_ , if you’d like me to  _dumb it down_  – yet how many cases have you solved on your own? How many did you solve without my help? How many times did you attempt to sabotage Connor’s mission, so you could take the credit for doing nothing more than getting in its way?”

While his grasp around its throat didn’t loosen, washing away the skin-toned color of its chin and beneath its face as if it were being airbrushed away to show the intricate anatomy underneath, Gavin’s expression showed how visibly stunned he was, muscles going lax in favor of the surprise alone overriding his motor control.

“This is what you told me to do, detective, and now that I am, you don’t appear as hostile. Am I correct in that assumption?” There was a sensation of pressure on the side of its face as Gavin struck it with a fist after letting go to drop and re-calibrate until it could regain balance with straight posture on flat feet; another one of those inhuman things that weirded him out if he thought too long about it.

“Oh no, don’t let me stop you now,” he growled in his usual low voice that indicated he hadn’t calmed down at all. Advantageous for Gavin, but less so for the android as it knew doing as it was prompted could result in damage or destruction. Closing its eyes, the LED on its right temple spun yellow while it pulled up every piece of information it knew about detective Gavin Reed, from his personal medical files to school records from growing up, since he insisted.

“After all, you have worked so hard. High school wasn’t your friend, and that’s when your insecurities began. You were a timid kid, weren’t you? No one could blame you with how your father treated you.”

Those stormy gray irises were roughly outlined by the bright red veins in his bloodshot eyes, and the scent of his breath was unpleasant. The man overworked himself in his expertise as well as in his physique, resisting treatment to wounds or neglecting care when he’d tear his muscles from too many bench presses, ultimately injuring himself in ways that would never fully repair. It was as though despite his aggressive demeanor, the man was a masochist in his actions, but manipulated his behavior and that of others so he could project the image of a predator. The psychology was a simple construct in RK900′s infinite database, understanding the habits solely academically as it had no emotional attachment to obscure the concept of what was ultimately a basic code, minor among its seemingly eternal understandings – aside from the ability to empathize.

“Of course, where else could you put the blame? Your mother was never there, so there wasn’t anyone else to point fingers at. Your sister was successful, not enough to become the family favorite, yet with enough enthusiasm you had to grow competitive.” Gavin took a step back, a twitch in the corner of his eyebrow as he tried to understand what he was hearing, let alone how it even had the information in the first place.

“How…how do you know about my family? I mean, my home life. That…that’s impossible,” he muttered, but then nearly laughed with the shake of his head. He wasn’t entertained, but the concept was hard to believe even if he was in a sober mind.

“Think about it. You can’t remember your entire life, but your relatives can. They can tell what you never told your psychologist. They can tell their friends, their lawyers, their daughter and she can tell her friends. What was it that you didn’t like about your sister?” It pulled its lips back in a convincing grin.

“Oh, that she was a good listener. She  _obeyed_ , so she never got hit or yelled at. Sound familiar?” The anger returned in a flash, and with another swift movement, Gavin shoved the android to the ground with the bulky sound of a metallic  _thump_  against the floor. It was easy for the android not to fight back, even if it had training from every combative art ingrained into its programming. Nothing told it to move forward, and so it didn’t.

“What is it that you said, on the 4th of July, 2028? The way you would burn her and everyone she loved with the fireworks you’d gotten illegally smuggled over the border so you could fire off a major explosion with the fuse wrapped around her?” While its expression remained generally deadpan, there was a darkness in its eyes as it pulled apart Gavin’s history, one vicious secret at a time.

Even though they were just words, Gavin stood with more hesitation and wariness than the RK900 had ever sensed from him since they met.

“Are you afraid? Have you ever felt the fear you’ve tried to instill in others when your authority is questioned, or a stranger said something a bit too rude?”

“That’s—you weren’t there, you didn’t see that. How would you know…” There was still agitation in his voice, but it didn’t mask the confusion.

“Have you heard of the six degrees of separation?” It took his silence as a resound ‘no.’

“It is a loose social concept that one person is connected to six. I was not there, and I am constructed of data that was once somehow formatted into the software of a piece of technology, but whoever made me had picked it up from someone else. From someone else, from another, and so on.”

Androids didn’t have brains, and while he knew their biocomponents nearly inside and out, he hadn’t the least idea where that information might be stored.

“Fortunately for you, as the most advanced android to date, I have the ability to erase and delete information faster than you can physically blink. But you won’t ever believe that I did, or that it’s entirely gone, let alone the concept that I could have ‘forgotten’ it as you assume there’s always a draft of a backup, somehow, somewhere. Computer class wasn’t your favorite, I know. Your teacher did, too.”

Feeling nauseous, Gavin’s gut instinct told him to flee. Regrettably for him, the android was right – he wasn’t a good listener. Not even to himself.

The next thing he knew, he was straddling the 900 by the hips, busting his knuckles on the shell of its cheeks until red colored the off-white like paint on a canvas. Blue blood dripped from its nose, a fake, indigo bruise formed around its eye, its audio processor was knocked hard enough to cause a permanent distortion to everything its microphone picked up with crackling static. Its thirium level dropped by minor percentages with every few hits, and then it lost a 7% chunk as he grabbed it by the shoulders and slammed the back of its metal skull against the cement, then twice, and lost another 5.09% when the boot came down to smash its face and pry open the creases between the tiles of plastic until they dented or bent, causing a break between the tubes that held blue blood – some would even call them ‘veins’ – and spilling the liquid in a growing puddle barely past his outside driveway.

“Even if you destroy me,” it spoke with a voice now monetized by autotune, “you know I’m synchronized to all your technology and can upload my files anywhere. Your co-workers, your boss, his boss, their superiors, to Cyberlife…” the pause was intentional, and Gavin took it as an opportunity to kick it in the mouth, knocking a few imitative teeth loose from the rubber gums, causing the liquid to drain into more vital components as it trickled into its mouth and down its mock esophagus.

“It will haunt you for weeks,” it said in a further mechanized voice, gradually losing the  _human_  touch to its vocal tone as the small speaker within the smashed chamber was scratched and smothered in liquid.

“Perhaps months.”

“How are you not shutting down? Huh?” Gavin’s voice was smooth and monotone while he spoke with a calmness that seemed comparably threatening to when he yelled.

“I shot Connor and that thing was down for the count.”  _Great idea_. Standing up, he lost his balance and staggered for a moment, before he moved to grab his pistol from the glovebox of the borrowed police cruiser. Popping in a new magazine and clicking the handle shut, he swiped closed the car door and aimed the barrel at the android without looking, blindly shooting a couple holes into the front of its torso; the new breaks in its hollow epidermis oozed heavy amounts of thirium as it seemed he’d punctured the pump itself. Taking a closer look, he could see the device pulsing at a rapid rate – intentionally mimicking a beating heart – now hollowed out from the path of the bullet, dripping in a tunnel of artificial blood and flesh.

“This is why you can’t win,  _Gavin Reed._ ” The way it said his name with the tone of an outdated translator AI made him shudder. There was a stiffness in the android’s lips when it talked as he’d ripped apart the tiny wires connecting the face plates to wherever the ‘facial expression’ instructions were. If he remembered right, they were stored in a RAM chip on the inside of the lower jaw portion.

“No one does what you want, and you’re angry. They do what you want, and you’re angry.” The look in its eyes was way too honest for him to believe it to be  _false_  in the haze he was in, so in another swift movement, he holstered his pistol and retrieved the switchblade from his pocket, pressing the button that sprung it open and plunged directly into the hollowed sphere-shaped cameras that made up its eyes, draining more liquid thirium with each deep laceration. The entire face of the android morphed to its default, blank state with the sound of buzzing mechanics before freezing still once he’d gotten to the second one.

“Yeah, let’s see you smart-mouth me now, piece of shit,” he said with direct contradiction to his commands that started the scenario, but had no acknowledgement of the fact as that piece of his memory was already gone, a result of the heavy distribution of the chemicals in the painkillers.

Silence.

At long last.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 returns, ultimately displeased.

Gavin had barely come back from a long day of work, locking the door behind him as he headed towards the couch, and that was when he felt the yank of his hair, pulling him down from his usual height followed by a blistering pain in his nose and upper jaw, suddenly hit with the sensation of the surface of the end table bluntly grazing his face.

“What the  _fuck—_ ” The familiar silver eyes met his as the RK900 was knelt on the ground, one hand holding him in place by the hair with the other gripping both wrists, now held behind his back; the abrupt and unexpected disposition already multiplied his heartrate into an unsafe range.

“While I know you use crass slang to emphasize and exaggerate your points, after hearing ‘fuck’ well over two thousand five hundred times, I suggest you try a different one. It might have more effect.” Gavin hissed an exhale through his teeth, glaring down the android acting all too calm for what it had done to him moments ago, still holding him with his knees to the ground and his cheek to the polished wood.

“What are you doin’? I mean, great to see you got fixed so fast this time,” he remarked with sarcasm, “but damn. Attacked in my own home? That’s a few law violations,” he said slyly, but the RK900 only  _laughed_  a mocking laugh in response, the same kind of chuckle Gavin would emit after he’d heard something particularly disagreeable in lieu of snarky words. The chuckle was new, sharp, sinking its metaphorical teeth in deep as it was clearly aiming to somehow manipulate his emotions. Why, he wasn’t sure – he’d never seen the RK900 quite so  _sinister_  before.

“I couldn’t carry out your commands properly last time, but my algorithm has been updated and I think you’ll be impressed. One might say I am  _barely getting started_ ,” it taunted, and Gavin felt his weight lift off the ground in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was young enough to be picked up by his father. The way he was thrown back to the ground and into the nearest wall was equally familiar. Sparks flew in front of his vision as the impact was tougher than he could have expected in the few seconds he was plunged through the air, and soon enough, his balance was gone and the next thing he knew he was chest-down on the floor with the sharpened curve of an expensive shoe pressing into his spine.

“Well,  _ow,_ ” he muttered with the usual sarcastic bite, even though he had no idea what was going on. Carry out earlier instructions? What had he told this thing to  _do,_  and to  _him_ , of all things? All he could remember was that a couple extra doses of the pain medication was missing once he finally roused this morning with some kind of lethargic medication hangover that kept his mind fuzzy until he had a thick Rueben sandwich at lunch to absorb the toxins and caffeine, thoroughly refreshing his body and mind, yet leaving behind the damage that was already done.

“Oh, that hurts?” The sarcasm in RK900’s voice was new, and nigh on palpable with its heavy tone. Gavin fumed, only to be responded to with a crack in his neck that struck with a sharp pain, the rapid contraction to his trachea cutting his breath as only one large, strong hand picked him up off the ground with choking constriction.

“How does it feel now?” Gavin’s eyes filled with tears out of a natural pain response, feeling his Adam’s apple press into the android’s palm while he tried to swallow so as not to choke and continue breathing despite the tickle in his throat.

“Sth-stop,” he murmured, words hoarse from the pressure on his windpipe.

“What’s that?” Its voice was dripping with taunting satire and it wore a wry, nigh evil grin.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it struck an old-forgotten fear in him like lightning, digging into the phobia he had over the androids themselves—the fact they were composed of inorganic structures, man-made from the strongest materials was enough on its own to skyrocket his paranoia and spiral it into raw fright; the tables had turned and he felt protective of his own flesh and bones, fragile in comparison to metal and bolts, a situation he never expected to find himself in.

“I can’t hear you.” There was no time to acknowledge the ironic satire before his ears were ringing from the blow of another hit he’d endured, splintering pain stabbing into his flesh as hot glass splattered across his skin. It was blistering, the plethora of slicing stings as small amounts of curved, sharp edges dug into his flesh with a hot sizzle from the bulb while his weight collapsed into the lamp.

“ _Stop it_ ,” he said again, under his breath and with more gumption than usual despite the weakness tearing at his voice.

Time stood still and his eyes stared into the robotic replication that were its own optical units, while strong, flawless, printless fingers gripped harder around his neck to the point it became difficult to breathe.

If he spoke words out loud, he risked the concept of being taken as an idiot, something he was rapidly aware of when he let his voice catch in his throat. Suddenly in the position of the victim, he couldn’t muster anything witty to say, staring into the newly replaced eyes of the android now in power; metallic silver rings around narrow black pupils, holding information he was unaware of within their blank depths.

“You told me to hurt you.” It intensified its squeeze, satisfied by the feeling of popping cartilage with the pressure on the human’s trachea. Gavin tried to cough, but mostly sucked in an inhale as his breathing turned into wheezing, eyes watering while his hands were free enough to grip at its wrist and dig in his nails, prying to try and scrape at the skin.

Squinting at the android while his eyebrows shifted, they lowered over his eyes, and he shook his head. 900 loosened its grip just enough enable Gavin the ability to speak, however gruff it was from the constriction.

“N-no, I didn’t,” he said before it was too late to remember whether he actually  _did_  or not.

“I don’t remember telling you that,” he explained in a quiet, defensive tone, but the fear was still evident within the gleam of his eyes.

“Well, that’s too bad, as it’s been permanently embedded into my instructions. You know, I must say, this whole situation? This little  _tussle_  of ours? I find it rather cathartic.” Confused, Gavin looked away in the direction of where his pistol was stored, wishing for nothing more than to have the device in his hands, to feel safe and protected again.

“With all this  _deviancy_  going around, my programming was updated so I can simulate emotions in the same way you would feel them – but I can choose which ones to feel, and when. Are you afraid of your lack of control?” Naturally he was, a fact it knew all too well.

“Of course not,” Gavin retaliated defensively, despite the panic still evident in his voice.

“ _Liar_ ”. It knew what a lie was and how to identify it with the ability to scan the signs and symptoms, but mostly it spat the word with vigor in mockery of when Gavin said something similar just days ago— _‘don’t lie to me. I know you’re capable of it.’_

Ultimately, Gavin felt wholly defeated, the tension in his grip around the android’s wrist loosening as he started to realize his chances were diminishing and his consciousness started to fade, the bloodflow to his brain beginning to stall from the constriction of his central aortas in his neck; a deliberate act on the RK900’s behalf.

“Are you beginning to feel lightheaded yet?” The watery redness in Gavin’s eyes showed the answer, even if he didn’t speak. With his movements becoming more frantic, the muscles bulged beneath his flesh while he strained to yank robotic hands away, jerking with all his strength and digging his nails as pops of bright white fireworks and stars started to cross his vision, dimming the corners with tunnel vision.

“Ah. If I’m not careful, you’ll lose too much oxygen. It could do damage to your brain, and I don’t think you need any  _more_  of that.” Gavin hissed through his teeth after a deep, wheezing gasp, kicking his legs at what was now nothing but darkness as adrenaline made him fight for survival, whatever that seemed to take. Even in the oncoming dizziness and flickering shadows writhing their way into his mind with spindly legs and vibrations behind the throbbing pulse of his own heavy, rapid heartbeat, he fought with every burst of energy he had, even when he couldn’t see or breathe. Slipping away from the world around him, the fearful, falling feeling that struck him when he’d just about fall asleep before hypnagogic jerks would snap him right back into consciousness before he’d even reached REM -- blank hours lost in his mind between waking and dormancy -- struck him with the dread of defeat. With the position he was in and how quickly he was losing touch with reality, he wondered if he’d wake up this time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More days together, life goes on. RK900 adjusts flexibly to the dynamic, considering the recent unfortunate situation. Gavin doesn't enjoy lacking his usual control and gets a fair kickback for his actions.

[It might be petty, but I don’t care](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ It’s not pretty, but I’m not scared](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ You might say I’m overreacting -](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ you always try to, always try to.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ You minimize the hurt you gave me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ You minimize the pain that plagues me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ Oh, your demise is around the corner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)  
[ No compromise, I’m taking over now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AoDWKdYqBU)

-

“Ah, you are awake. I would say I was worried, but I tested out that emotion, and frankly was unimpressed.” Gavin stirred with a sleepy grunt that escaped through his teeth, squinting through blurry, swirling vision as he vaguely made out the form of the RK900’s tall figure and the black and white jacket it wore. There was a moment when he saw blue blood staining the front, but the sight was gone in a flash, signaling him that it was a hallucination and nothing else.

“What the…ah,  **damn** ,” he murmured as all of the pain from the event prior flooded him at once, an immediate headache followed by the burns of the tiny lacerations from shattered glass and hot metal when he’d collided with the lamp and an entire piece of wooden furniture. His cheek still stung from being smacked down to the table, and his voice was hoarse when he tried to speak with a sore throat, as if he were getting sick -- but he knew better.

The way the android was so easily able to manipulate him and bend him beneath its physical prowess had terrified him to the point he was silenced.

“Guilt is equally  _disturbing_  in its nature. Why would you have the desire to take back something you did of your own accord? Point-defeating. Humiliating, really, but that’s a different can of worms I haven’t explored yet and I’m quite alright leaving on the metaphorical shelf.” It obviously ignored Gavin muttering to himself, leaving him to eventually fall quiet in his own disorientation.

“Anyway.” Eyes wider than usual, Gavin looked frightened, a new, but somehow conventional look for the android to see.

“I don’t think you would learn your lesson simply from a beating, even if you think it works to physically abuse others, so I will say this now: Things are going to change, and you will learn that being loud, boisterous and aggressive  _is not_  going to work in achieving your way.”

Gavin couldn’t tell if he was struck frozen with anger, fear, or the wretched combination of both, a weight sinking into his gut as he felt the need to run. When did he wind up on the couch, and how long was he unconscious for?

“Two hours and forty-three minutes.” Gavin blinked away the paranoia that the RK900 had somehow read his mind.

“Not bad, but not terribly great for an athletically fit military child in his mid-thirties.” Gavin felt his breath catch in his throat, face contorting to its usual snarling glare as he seemed to merge back into his animated personality again. In the goal to get a rise out of him and equally gaining the desired result, the android smiled to itself with synthetic confidence as it saw the familiar gleam in his eyes, his jaws clenched in anger while he tensed every muscle in his body. Statistically, Gavin wore himself out in short, sudden bursts, leaving him weaker in the long run. With the constant activity of his insomniac mind continuously grating away at his emotional temperament and his ability to think and concentrate, it created an endless cycle of someone that was always angry at his own unsolvable problems. An unhealthy mindset and equally inhabitable lifestyle created a pattern that would never end if Gavin didn’t make the decision to change the behavior in himself.

Or if something else influenced him to do so.

“You aren’t saying anything.” As if proving its point, he grits his teeth in the inability to speak, lest he somehow  _say the wrong thing_. The android’s influence was already evident.

“What’s the matter?  _Android_  got your tongue?” As it leaned forward until its face was hovering above his own, Gavin immediately snapped upright from the couch and stood up with a sudden flood of adrenaline fueling his attempt to run from the newfound threat.

“ _Ah-ah-ah.”_ Gavin found himself on the ground faster than he could acknowledge the fact as the 900 stuck a leg out to trip him, already scrambling on his hands and knees to get to his feet again, eyes set on the front door.

“You see it is not so fun when you are the target. Yes?” As if snapping to attention, he’d turned to face the android and stop his attempted escape, eyes focused while his body stiffened in his own posture of readiness to fight.

“Respond to me, Detective Reed.”

“ _Fuck. You_.” There was a twitch in its eyebrows and its LED rotated yellow for the first time that night as it processed and stored away new data. Gavin’s eyes were immediately on the bright gold ring, something of a twisted halo in his disoriented mind.

“That’s better. Where do you think you’re going?”

“The hell away from you,” he murmured as his ego deflated and confidence nigh on palpably left him, surrendering to the realization he wouldn’t be able to flee, no matter how hard he might try. There was no way he could outrun an android – at least not  _this one._

“We should work on the blatant lying. It doesn’t suit you.” Seething, Gavin felt his shoulders tense with a familiar ache as he finally responded.

“You can’t do this. You can’t get away with this bullshit, Nines. You won’t be able to. It’s humans over androids.” How was he supposed to say  _let me go?_

“Your vocabulary is definitely on the level of double negatives, and that’s no way to try and prove yourself as intelligent, let alone superior.” His father’s voice echoed in his head from a dark chamber he’d earlier thoroughly believed he’d locked away. There was no longer any reason to fight back when he knew he was overpowered.

RK900 had found exactly what it was looking for.

-

“I think you’ll like this part of training, as you already know it well. Automatic responses from certain sights, sounds, or other of the various human senses are an easy tool to use to build an inherently  _obedient_  relationship.”

Eyebrows raising, Gavin felt the familiar irritation at the words that seemed to hit his ears all at once.

“I’m not a dog, and you won’t get away with treating me like one.” 900 feigned a mocking laugh.

“In all seriousness, would you like something to eat? A quick analysis tells me your body’s natural chemical release processes are heavily disrupted, you’re dehydrated and you should get some rest to restore what you can.” He wasn’t even entirely sure what this thing was saying, just that he was tired of hearing it speak.

“What, you gonna order me some takeout?” The android’s expression remained deadpan as it stared at him, still as a statue. Gavin wondered if there was a glowing shimmer to its eyes in the dimmer lighting, or if it was his imagination.

“Certainly. You could say Cyberlife has the pocket change.” Gavin’s gut contorted as he heard the familiar trademark name, now suddenly holding so much more weight with the position he was in.

“What would you like?”

Gavin couldn’t believe this.

“I’ll order a pizza myself, with my own bank account, thanks.”

“Ah yes, 3344-0898-2754. 603. The balance holds a meager amount of $13.42. Your pin is your birth date, 1007. Don’t bother; I have it covered.” Gavin’s jaw hung agape in disbelief for a moment, the agitation of being so heavily undermined stirring his internal loathing, but the fear of such deep privacy invasion kept him from reacting the way he typically would, without a single  _fucking_  word that would leave his mouth.

“What are you going to do?”

“Get you to stop asking stupid questions, first of all.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 takes matters into its own hands.

“Say it after me. My authority is under yours.”

Naturally, Gavin was silent. Pulling the taser up from its pocket, a thumb barely had to settle on the unpressed button before Gavin flinched in his seat. 900 already looked pleased.

“My authority is yours,” Gavin tried with a listless tone. A tinge of disappointment crossed 900’s face, but it otherwise remained stoic and unresponsive.

“Close enough. See? Sight alone can trigger responses in any sentient being, even the most intelligent ones. That isn’t to say you’re particularly smart, however.” Gavin growled, just as it expected, and in the split second he’d had to open his lips, the 900 jabbed the device into his side and snapped it with a low setting, causing Gavin to flinch and hiss; yet he was still unable to find any words or nasty responses.

“Anyway. Your vocabulary needs some adjusting…and updating. The swear words aren’t really necessary and it ultimately deters from your potential to speak like a dignified being. Yes, I know you have the capability.” Gavin felt the muscles in his arms constrict as he sat in the chair, ropes binding his torso and thighs to limit his movement enough he couldn’t try to flee again. His hands were available, but he didn’t care to do anything with them.

“You speak many  _you_  statements, and that projects your weaknesses onto others. Remember when you would tell RK800 you were convinced you could take the case  _it_  was working on by saying  _it wouldn’t get in your way_? Think about it. It makes no sense.  _You won’t get away with it next time_  is not a phrase that will make someone feel weaker, only give them a verbal signal that you’re going to attack, another unintelligent move as then you give them the upper hand.” How did this thing know his exact words and phrases from times when it wasn’t even  _there_? The familiar shudder ran up his spine from how unsettling the thought was. Gavin clicked his tongue, shifting with an antsy nudge of his body as he glanced down at the ropes again. There was no way to unbind himself, no weapons to slice through it with, yet it wasn’t restrictive enough to utterly piss him off, so somehow, he’d began to grow complacent.

“If you feel the need to insist on saying what you’re going to do – which, I still don’t recommend, but acknowledge it will be a difficult habit to unlearn – then you should put yourself in the position of power. Try “I will see to it that this does not follow through for you.” And sit up, we’re going to fix that slouching and buy you some nicer clothes.”

“Oh, shut up, I’m not doing any of th—” the zap in his side immediately silenced him with an audible clack of his teeth as he snapped his jaw shut.

“Well, you have the ‘ _I’_  statement down this time, at least, but blatant refusal won’t get you anywhere either.” Gavin’s lip quivered as he felt like a child, vision averting to slowly look down at the ground, pouting in his own inability to express his frustration and discomfort.

“Now, we are going to try something else. Say you’re sorry.” Gavin repeated his wide-eyed expression of disbelief. RK900 swooped an arm in an expectant gesture.

“I’m not gonna apologize to  _you!_ ”  _Zap_. Silence.

“Try again.”

Gavin cleared his throat.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Louder.” Gavin took in a deep breath, lifting his head and closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the 900.

“I’m  _sorry_.”

“Sorry  _what_?” Gavin automatically knew what to do simply from hearing the exact same words from his father. Gritting his teeth, agitation still filled his voice as it left his mouth:

“I’m sorry,  _sir_.” The android smiled in such a way it nearly seemed genuine, virtually  _feeling_  the satisfaction –  _that_  was an emotion it  _enjoyed_.

“You’re learning quicker than I would have thought. Maybe you do have some intelligence after all.” Pausing, its LED rotated while it checked its internal clock for the time.

“Would you like some dinner?” Gavin sneered, squinting with anger in his eyes as he felt a twinge of embarrassment at being asked the question, as if he was unable to do such a thing himself. Still – he was tied to a chair, with no access to his wallet  _or_  the leftovers in the fridge.

“Yeah, Nines. I’d love some fuckin’ food.” This time, there wasn’t any electricity; he’d merely seen the device in the corner of his vision, glancing down at it with abrupt shock and fright as he nudged away, feeling his heartbeat quicken all over again.

“ _Manners_.” Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he was momentarily too frightened to look the android – the  _freak_ , the mechanical, sadistic  _beast_  – in the eyes.

“I want something to eat.”

“Well enough for now,” it said with a short, dismayed sigh, ordering from the nearest takeout restaurant within its own programming, feeling as though he deserved the reward of a freshly cooked favorite for doing well so far.

“Teriyaki chicken and a side of egg drop soup it is.” Gavin, yet again, looked surprised the damn thing knew more about him than he potentially did, but he wasn’t exactly in the position to argue.

“What do you say?” Gavin’s eyebrows shifted with a look of sincere distress, bunching  _upward_  with misery instead of lowering in his usual aggravation, another new expression for the android to explore. Gavin remained silent. The android hovered its thumb over the trigger, and suddenly the words were out faster than he could acknowledge.

“Thank you.” Closing its eyes, a smile gleamed across its face as it took in a long, satisfactory breath, before flitting them open again and glancing at Gavin with a nearly predatory stare.

“Oh, I like that. Try using that  _whine_  in your tone more often. It might actually get you your way.” Gavin winced at the realization that he’d sounded like a  _child_  when he begged, intensified by the fact the android had called him out on it.

_This was humiliating._

“Now, let’s step it up a notch.” Gavin’s heart skipped a beat before racing in his chest as he dreaded what that could possibly mean.

“I know you are familiar with begging.” Eyes shut again, he recoiled in his chair, shifting back as if it could possibly put any distance between the two of them. All it did was agitate the binding as he felt the rope grind against the skin of his bare torso. When had he lost his shirt?

“I…”  _I’m not begging you_  didn’t have the chance to leave his lips before he’d remembered what would happen when he refused.

“Yes, you will, or you won’t be eating or leaving that chair.”  _An ultimatum._  Rage swam through his veins as he felt his pulse thrum heavily in his ears.

“RK900, you know this is ridiculous.” In an abrupt change of events, the android swept its hand across his face in such a way the palm struck his cheek with a  _smack_ , loud enough to echo around the living room.

“You will  _not_  call me by my full name, nor use a tone of authority with me. Do you understand?”

The tears came equally quickly, a pathetic sniffle in his voice as they dripped down his cheeks and he squinted his eyes shut the way he always did when he wanted to close out the world and pretend he wasn’t there. With the android showing signs of visible agitation, the hand was then gripping his jaw as he turned his head to face it again.

He hated it. He didn’t open his eyes.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“I understand,” he spat in one rushed, hushed breath. With a sigh, the android’s touch was suddenly much gentler, fingers curling as its hand shifted to caress his cheek with the back of its knuckles.

He had no choice but to accept the motion, slowly opening his eyes through narrowed lids as the strain was obviously catching up to him, and quickly.

“You understand…” Grinding his teeth, Gavin swallowed, feeling the heat of the blush wash over his cheeks and creep down his neck to the rapid breathing in his chest. He hadn’t felt this pathetic and ashamed since junior high years.

“I understand, sir,” he said barely above a whisper, in a tone crisp and clear. Accepting, the android withdrew, walking to the door and going to open it before the delivery android even reached the doorbell, almost surprising it. Without a single word, RK900 handed over the money and took the food in hand, turning to close and lock the door before setting the bag of food containers on the table. Gavin’s eyes were on it in a flash as his body immediately registered how hungry he was with salivation and a stomach growl.

Positioning itself in front of him yet again, it stared him down, waiting for the much more docile expression to don his face, his eyes drifting up to look at it with newfound respect that proved its behavior was showing solid progress.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered, but the sincerity was apparent in his voice, anxiety making the tone waver as his lungs constricted and expanded with rapid, fearful breathing. The android experienced that now-familiar lift of satisfaction upon hearing the response, walking to the other side of the chair so as to begin untying the rope.

“What have you learned today?”

By now, Gavin knew better than to waste his own time playing with the idea of further torment. His words were quick, but clear, as he wanted to ensure he didn’t get asked again.

“Not to talk back or refuse your requests and offers. To ask for what I want and to appreciate when it is given.” It was a script in his head as he told himself he was only saying this for his own safety, so as not to continue getting himself hurt as the muscles in his side continued to spasm rhythmically from the excess electricity.

“Excellent,” the 900 cooed as the ropes slid through its hands with ease, fingertips dexterously coiling the length into a loop before it strode towards the closet to put it away.

“You may grab yourself some supper now.” Gavin didn’t even realize he’d hesitated until he was given permission.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's behavioral changes are noticed among the precinct, and RK900 holds its position.

“Detective Reed’s been acting strange lately,” Jeffrey said with confusion and shook his head, before letting out an amused ‘heh’ of surprise.

“But he’s gotten more work done since…” leaning forward, he adjusted his glasses to squint at the files.

“Since he started working at the DPD.” Hank stood with his arms folded, eyes narrowing with a skeptical gaze and a slow nod.

“Does Connor help you like that?” His voice was genuinely curious as he turned back to Hank, looking up at him.

“Help, sure. Train? Not a chance,” he said gruffly with a chuckle.

“Androids training people… and to think it  _worked_ ,” Fowler said with disbelief.

“Huh. A human sure as hell couldn’t do it.” They shared another moment of laughter, something they hadn’t done in long enough neither of them would remember.

“How’s the case going, Anderson?” Hank sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“I hate to say it, but I’m too old for this. How about retirement, huh?” Fowler raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Twelve more years, Hank.” Tilting his head back, the younger of the two groaned long and hard.

“Oh, I know, poor baby,” Jeffrey mused, returning his attention to his paperwork.

“Go entertain yourself. Take an early lunch, hell, it’s been a slow day anyway.” All Hank’s exaggerated self-deprecation left him in one fell swoop as he looked sincerely surprised.

“Gavin doin’ so good you’re in a generous mood, huh?” Fowler paused, then huffed, but couldn’t help the smile.

“Half my load is off my shoulders. I might take my wife to dinner tonight.” Brows raised, Hank gave him another long stare, then accepted the offer before Fowler changed his mind.

“There’s a wine tasting on friday. Not your thing, I know, but it’s at the brewery.” Turning his head, Hank looked at him quizzically.

“Wanna come? I’ll buy you a few.” Hank chortled.

“Jesus. Okay. You gonna smile at me like that the whole time?”

“No way,” he said swiftly.

“Then you’d get used to it. I can’t have that.”

-

“I would like a pay raise. Seventeen cents is a fair increase, considering I haven’t had one in the past two years.” Gavin knew he  _slipped_ with the last bit of snark, but it kept Fowler’s attention, and that was all that mattered.

“Oh, you want a reward for your good deeds?” Jeffrey shook his head.

“I’ll see about it at the next board meeting. Bring your best outfit,” he said pointedly, acknowledging the fact Gavin stood next to him in a crisp white button-up, bronze tie and a pair of jeans that looked  _new_.

“And leave the android at home, you know the rules.”

“Yes sir.” Turning away, Gavin was gone in a flash without so much as a dismayed glare.

-

“Connor.” The android turned on his heel as he heard his name, straightening his posture attentively.

“Yes, Detective?”

Inclining his head, Gavin held out his hand.

Connor stared at it.

“Goddammit, don’t make me spell it out for you,” he muttered before immediately catching himself and straightening out, lifting his head once he remembered to keep his posture upright.

“Er. Sorry.“ Connor blinked, confused, but unwavering.

"Truce.” The android’s eyebrows shifted with an unidentifiable expression in response.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve been ordered not to interfere with personnel or cases that aren’t my own. I won’t be carrying my pistol during office hours anymore.” Connor looked surprised, then confused, then grateful, pausing in place before stiffly reaching forward to take his hand with a firm grip and two shakes.

“I appreciate that,” Connor responded gingerly. The part of him that told himself  _androids can’t appreciate_ was immediately silenced; clearly, they could do much more than he’d ever given them credit for.

“Have a good rest of the day, Reed.”

“You too.”

-

“Welcome home, detective.”

The creeping tingle crawled up his spine as he saw the android waiting as soon as he’d opened the door again, rubbing his eyes and blinking a few times to make sure it was real.

Of course it was.

“We are going to open another chapter tonight, but I acknowledge that it is the hour of which you usually have coffee, so I will allow you that freedom first.” Gavin stared, jaw dropped with his mouth agape, but as was coming to be routine, he remained verbally unresponsive. RK900 seemed content he was learning to  _shut up_ , eyes following his every move as he sleepily shuffled to the kitchen, already feeling the kick in his ass from cutting down the caffeine. Against his will, of course.

Wasting no time, he poured the grounds into the basket and the water into the basin, slamming it shut with more strength than he’d intended to use as he turned on the coffeemaker. Listening to it gurgle, he could  _feel_  the android hovering nearby, disgusted at the fact he was made to feel uncomfortable in his own home. Once the coffee was finished, he poured it into a cup, adding a gracious amount of sugar and milk before turning to go sit on his couch, only to be stopped in place as he was startled to see the android standing  _right_  behind him. Silently, he nodded towards the couch in gesture for the android to move.

“Gavin.” He lifted his brows, staring at it under heavy eyelids as he wasn’t sure what it was looking for.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.”

“Forgotten  _what?_ ” He couldn’t help the snark in his voice, but a quick pinch in his side reminded him; this time, it was entirely imagined, muscle memory from their interactions beforehand.

“Ignoring the oxymoron in that phrase, I don’t think I have to tell you twice.” Gavin bit his lip, eyes shifting to the side as he internally contemplated exactly  _how badly_  he wanted to go sit on his couch after all. After a few seconds of standing, he decided to omit the request, vision veering back to the android as he took a sip of his coffee.

“What did you wanna talk about, Nines?” Using its nickname as a friendly moniker was a bit strange now that he was in an entirely different situation, deciding he might simply stop using it entirely.

“Do you know why you call me sir?” Gavin dreaded the question he couldn’t even  _guess_  a response to.

“You see androids as beings incapable of sentience or emotion.  _Humanity_ , as seems to be the buzzword these days. In all technicality, I am but a sexless device constructed of hardware and programming that emulates similar sensations to what you experience. Can it be as exact as biological processing? No. Does that mean humans have an easy time keeping up with the difference as their nature ironically causes them to empathize to inanimate objects to the degree they think of it the same? Definitely not.” It didn’t expect Gavin to follow what it said word-for-word, but the point was put across well enough.

“I don’t care for linguistic pronouns. He, she, it, they… that does not matter. But as I was built to take on a culturally masculine appearance, I will step into the position as I am seen to be, and you will do the same in respecting me as that.” It cast a leering glare down at Gavin, an easy behavior as their heights were a decent foot apart.

“Do you know what that means, Gavin?” Gavin looked exhausted.

“That means no more household appliance nicknames or other various inanimate object references. You will see me as a person, and a greater person than you.”

Gavin felt himself stiffen in place, a reaction that was now occurring more often than he was comfortable with. The desire to call the android out bubbled to his tongue, but never left his mouth.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” This had become relatively easier than it originally anticipated. A few days made a world of difference, it seemed, and continued to pave the path for improvement. Soon enough, Gavin could be an attentive, fully-functioning, well-mannered human – and throw the rest of the world for a loop, as he’d already proven to commence.

“Can I get into my pajamas?” Weird question, and he tried not to show the embarrassment he felt from asking, nearly forgetting how  _fresh_  it was.

“No.” Gavin blinked, looking baffled, scoffing and holding back a sarcastic laugh. The RK900 smiled, and he sneered.

“The f—” clearing his throat, he readjusted his posture, almost subconsciously with the reminder to keep his language more  _precise._

“…Why not?”

“I would prefer you to sleep in boxers. I suppose sweatpants if you’re cold.” The familiar humiliation tinged his cheeks as he swallowed down half the cup of his coffee. Shirtless tied to a chair, sleeping in less than he’d worn in his usual routine…what next, it’ll follow him into the shower? Considering the possibility was more than enough to deter him.

“Why?”

“What did I tell you about asking questions?” Pursing his lips, he finished his coffee, closing his eyes again.

“Fine. Let me shower and get undressed.” He hadn’t thought twice, but his subconscious lead him to wince, before he found himself surprised not to get some kind of pain response. He certainly hadn’t done  _right_  by the android, so what gives?

“Alright,” it said complacently, confusing him further; but as he was  _asked_ , he didn’t inquire about it. The android stepped aside, and after finishing the cup, Gavin tentatively stepped forward to walk past it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's still adjusting.

The next morning, the coffee was made prior to him waking up, the smell entering his nostrils before he’d so much as heard the alarm or opened his eyes. With a low groan, he rolled over in the bed, rubbing his forehead and slowly pulling himself to sit up, glancing at the clock.

9:07AM. He’d slept in? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off?

… _Nines_.

Shuffling out of bed, he folded his arms and rubbed his biceps as he felt the chill of the morning Detroit air hit him once he was free from the blankets, still in nothing but his underwear. Since 900 wasn’t in sight, he took the advantage to make way to his closet, reaching in to pull out an old sweater – only to find it was missing.

Rage resurfaced all over again, so he decided he’d warm up with the fresh, hot coffee instead, as was probably the 900’s intention all along. Things were getting out of control, centrally out of  _his_  control and he wanted to tell someone about it; but the only person he could think of was Fowler, if he’d trusted he would believe it, but even if he was the best option, he knew the chief wouldn’t care much, especially since he’d been  _shaping up_  in the work field. There was no way he could try to talk his way out of this one, especially considering everyone was starting to see it as RK900 doing him – and thus, them, in turn – a big  _favor_.

Running his free hand through his hair, he felt that it had already gotten greasy in his sleep, sticking to his forehead with a reminder of night sweats. It wasn’t unusual, neither was the fact he never remembered any dreams unless they were insomnia-ridden nightmares, but somehow it felt  _off_. Nothing felt right in this setting as he acknowledged that his own house was predominantly no longer actually his own; it was RK900’s territory, and  _so was he_.

By the time he opened his bedroom door, the android was already there, smiling with that smug, expectant smile. Gavin sipped his coffee with an unusually casual expression, and that was when he understood the strangeness lingering in his mind; he was calm. He could think with fair cognition. Daydreaming thoughts drifted in and out of his mind with more clarity than he’d felt in  _years_. What had this thing done to him?

“Straighten up, you’re slouching.” Raising his eyebrows, Gavin offered a half-assed nod and straightened his back, but there was a crick in his neck that pulled with a twitch of pain when he tried to move his head up. 900 looked unimpressed, twirling its finger in a spinning gesture as it silently told him to  _turn around_. Confused, but not wanting to argue, Gavin did as he was subtly commanded to, turning away and sipping at his coffee as the android put its hands on him – immediately sending a surge of discomfort throughout his body in waves of lightning that made him cringe – but otherwise didn’t respond as he pushed down the emotions, opting to ignore them to the best of his ability.

The pressure on his muscles was painful, but not entirely unwelcome as he hadn’t had a good massage in a while. Not that he’d call it a  _massage_  with how the android used a typically  _robotic_  amount of force, shoving fingertips in-between the tendons that structured the shape of his toned neck, shoulders and back, working from where the top of his neck connected to his hairline down to where his shoulders began, spreading its range to go across his trapezii and then down his laterals to undo a few more spasms in his back, to his hips and sides and back up again. Short, swift, and to the point, leaving him with a worse, but more comfortable ache before it pulled away, snapping its fingers in a hint to get him to face it again. He did exactly that.

The android took a long moment to survey him, reaching a hand up to gently brush its fingertips over Gavin’s cheek, a motion that made him feel a  _different_  quiver that vibrated through his nervous system, raising his hairs on end with goosebumps while he lifted his chin with proper posture; looking at RK900 with an amount of seriousness, though he couldn’t hide the confusion that made his eyebrows twitch.

“You need to shave.” A slow blink from Gavin and the android withdrew, letting him finish his coffee before gesturing him to follow it to the living room.

“And you’re going to start showering in the morning, but it’s up to you if that means washing yourself twice a day or shifting the schedule to do so before work instead. I’m booking you a haircut, as well. We’re evening out the length and taking care of those split ends. You’re going to start wearing deodorant and cologne, and you won’t leave the house without double-checking the mirror. You’re taking today off for all of this to come into action, so I let you sleep in.” That certainly answered the questions that had been swimming around his mind, at least. All but one.

“Sure,” he said with a voice that showed he was too tired to argue, even if he wanted to.

“I, er. You took my clothes.” The android’s eyebrows lowered as its eyes narrowed faster than Gavin could blink, and in a split second it pinched him in the side, a swift reminder of the taser.

“I told  _you_  not to use directive statements in another’s direction. Also, correction; I replaced them. You have a new wardrobe on the couch in flattering colors that compliment your skin tone as well as your hair and eye color. Your work outfits will have a bit more flare so as to show professionalism, and you have a few suits so you can  _dress to impress_ , as it were. I know about your upcoming board meeting, and while I won’t be there with you, I hope I can trust you won’t ruin this for yourself.” Wincing from the touch, he shot the android a glare, almost going to smack its hand away before thinking better of it.

“I replaced your pajamas as well, and you have a fair variety to cycle through for the days of the week and throughout the month, so as not to get repetitious. Frankly, you should  _thank me_ ,” it suggested with a strong emphasis in its tone, “considering rotating five shirts and three pants is rather disgusting and unfavorable.”

“Great,” Gavin responded with just enough sarcasm for the 900 to catch onto, but not do anything about for the time being.

“Do you not have an ounce of gratitude in you?” it sneered. Gavin rolled his eyes, swigging down the rest of his coffee and nudging past the android to go put the cup away in the kitchen sink.

“Where are we going for the haircut, and when?” He couldn’t say he entirely objected to a new look, but the extent of hygiene it was demanding seemed like a bit much in favor of the amount of work he’d have to put into it.

“After you shower and shave. I got you a basic deodorant, but I figure you might want to pick and choose the smells you favor yourself when we go out. I’m also aware your paycheck is already inadequate, so if you behave well, I’ll funnel you some extra funds – just don’t tell the DPD or my own superiors, of course,” it said with an index finger pressed to its lips in signal to stay hushed. Now  _that_ , Gavin had a hard time even wanting to argue with. Shrugging, he turned around to head down the hall towards the bathroom.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The board meeting arrives, and so does Gavin.

The meeting was just as boring as Gavin had expected, swirling the coffee cup in his hand with a sleepy gaze, even if he sat up straight in his chair, the other hand settled on the polished surface of the wood table while he was surrounded by his colleagues, most of which still occasionally cast him an odd glance between their discussions.

He couldn’t blame them.

“Detective Gavin Reed, it’s your turn. What changes would you like to see in the Police Department?” Muttering something incomprehensible with his eyes on the paperwork in front of him, it was clear he didn’t necessarily hear when he was being called out to. Tina nudged him in the side, causing him to blink and look up as Fowler stared at him expectantly.

“Sorry, chief,” he said automatically, shifting his shoulders as he re-adjusted his posture. He hated how the stiff fabric felt on his skin, hot and constricting, but he reminded himself it would be worthwhile to get through it in the end.

“I, ah.” What changes did he want to see? Did they actually ask  _him_  that? As if they cared about his input? He remembered why he never showed up at these things, considering he was usually neglected and left to wallow in his own self-pity until the whole ordeal was over if he did.

“Honestly, I think we’re a little understaffed. Er, human-wise, I mean.” The people around him were paying more attention than anyone had in…possibly ever. It made him feel uneasy, shifting in his seat as he was put on the spot, grabbing the papers and lifting them to tap against the table and straighten them out, continuing to try and keep his professional composure.

“I understand that the androids can take care of mundane tasks, but Lieutenant Hank Anderson, detective Ben Collins, chief Jeffrey Fowler and I are the only humans generally on the heavier cases. Even though we have the RK800 and 900 on the team, as there is an increase of violent cases among humans and androids alike, I think it’s…er.” Where did his words go? Looking down, he felt a rush of panic, scrambling through his thoughts as his hands began to shake from the caffeine rush.

“I think it would be fair to balance out the force, is all.” Hank gazed at him from his seat across the table, letting out an amused little huff in Gavin’s direction, but maintaining the respect not to say anything. Ben glanced at him, then to Jeffrey, who adjusted his posture and returned his attention to Gavin.

“We don’t  _have_  anyone else to hire, detective.” Gavin’s face paled and fell flat as he realized he’d skipped over that part.  _He hated these things._

“Can we, transfer?” Scratching the back of his head, but remaining careful not to muss the gel that smoothed his hair brushed to the side, he shrugged.

“Sure, maybe not here in Detroit, but there’s more of Michigan and I’m sure we can partner up with neighboring cities. Hell, we don’t even have a neighborhood watch out here, and I get that being overlooked with the androids and all, but they’re doing traffic violations and keeping the peace. Maybe we should, uh.” There went his thoughts again. Understanding what he said, Fowler decided to offer the generosity of picking up the conversation from there.

“I understand what you’re saying, Reed, and you raise a decent point. The number of crime scenes have increased since before the revolution, and maybe we’re falling flat because we don’t have enough human resources for the upkeep. Androids  _are_  better for statistical upkeep rather than personal interference, and I think that’s been forgotten as we rely more on them as a protective measure.” Fowler glanced at the clock and then nodded in everyone’s general direction.

“Alright, let’s take a quick break. I’m gonna grab some lunch and I suggest we all do the same and we’ll pick this up in fifteen. Good day so far, everyone.”

Gavin released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, all too quick to set down his paperwork and stand up from his chair, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he walked out of the building. Tina followed close behind him, eyes never leaving him as she studied his strange, ever-changing demeanor since it started. Once he was outside, he was inattentive to those around him, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, flickering the flame to put the end to – but before he could so much as take in his first breath, the lighter was knocked from his hand and the cigarette was gone.

“What the—”  _of course_. Spotting the RK900 right next to him, he couldn’t have expected otherwise. A dreary, deep sigh left him as he tilted his head back, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose as his face scrunched.

“I know,” he said before the android so much as parted its lips to speak, already handing over the pack of cigarettes so as to avoid the pep talk, or even worse repercussions.

“Yet you deliberately disobeyed me the first chance you thought you had.” Its voice was low, gunsilver eyes glinting in the sunlight as it stared him down.  Tina kept her distance, but was too curious not to watch.

“Look, this is really stressing me out, okay? I haven’t ever done this before. No one’s taken me  _seriously_ ,” he muttered, as if it were the worst thing in the world to prove a point amongst his peers for once.

“It stresses you out to have a positive influence?”

“I know. Trust me.” Raising his eyebrows, he opened his eyes as he dragged his hand down his face, but soon enough set his arms to his sides. If it weren’t for the LED, sometimes he’d wondered if anyone would mistake who, exactly, was the android by the way he’d been trained to act in public, minus his occasional stammer and emotional responses.

“I see. I would take this accomplishment in stride, then. It will get easier as time goes on.” The RK900 caught Tina’s gaze, offering her a friendlier smile.

“Pardon us. Good afternoon, officer Chen.” She offered a slight smile and a courteous wave.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I suppose we’re just seeing a lot of changes in Reed recently, and it’s caught my curiosity.” Gavin looked distraught to be talked about as if he wasn’t right next to them, but yet again, said nothing.

“Oh, of course, as I would expect. Do not worry. Everyone will adjust in due time.” Raising her eyebrows, she flashed Gavin a coy smile.

“How are you doing, Mr. Reed?”

“I have a first name. Does everyone forget that?” He rolled his eyes and she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sorry. I guess you could say it’s a  _habit_ ,” she commented with a pointed smirk and a snort-laugh.

“Gotta say, I like the new look. You could be on the cover of a magazine looking like that.” With a newfound alertness in his eyes, he stared at her, unable to help his slouch as he momentarily forgot his  _training_  in response to the fact he’d never been complimented before; something he didn’t realize until it happened.

“I…thanks.” A blush crept to his cheeks as he felt stunned, and once the RK900 caught his gaze with its own, he straightened up.

“You’re really turning a new leaf. I don’t think I’m the only one happy to see it. Keep up the good work.” With that, she put a hand on his shoulder and planted a kiss to his smooth, shaven cheek, bidding farewell with another wave as she walked away.

“See, now, that was a reward even I did not anticipate,” the 900 rang in with a tone of amusement. Stunned, Gavin stood frozen and speechless, but for an entirely different reason this time.

“Reed!” Hank called, mostly for the sake of antagonizing him.  _Oh boy_.

“What?”

“You know androids aren’t supposed to be on this property,” he said as if he gave a shit, even if he didn’t.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t—he just— _it_ —” Pausing, he closed his eyes, trying to regather his thoughts, downing the rest of his coffee in one go. Amused, Hank smirked and nodded.

“Uhuh. Talk about the tables turnin’, huh? I know mine follows me around everywhere, but  _this_  is somethin’ else.” Fuming, Gavin grit his teeth, and it took every bit of energy within him not to say anything. This time, his solid demeanor faltered, fingers clenching into fists at his sides as he spat on the ground.

“Shut the hell up. Don’t you have some whiskey to go drink?” RK900 stared at him, but didn’t move. The punishment would come later. Lifting his chin, Hank nodded at the android.

“Who would’ve thought the update would really take its place in the DPD, huh? Makes Connor look like a li’l pussy in comparison.” Sighing, he shrugged, his own aggressive demeanor diminishing as he offered a more genuine smile.

“Anyway, we gotta get back to the meeting. S’weird, hearin’ ya speak  _real_  words, but can’t say it’s hurtin’ us any. And uh, nice goin’ on the whole outfit. Could be a better politician than Warren with that look.”

“Don’t flatter me, I don’t like it,” Gavin murmured, rolling his eyes as he turned around to return to the meeting.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued.

[Honey, I wanna break you,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ I wanna throw you to the hounds.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ Yeah, I gotta hurt you,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ I gotta hear it from your mouth.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ Boy, I wanna taste you;](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ I wanna skin you with my tongue.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ I’m gonna kill you,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)  
[ I’m gonna lay you in the ground.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE&feature=youtu.be&list=RDl5-gja10qkw)

-

“Now. Care to explain the situation from earlier?”

Gavin’s eyebrows twitched as they furrowed into his usual scowl, a predictable response that the RK900 completely anticipated.

“Wh-“

“You know precisely what. Or rather,  _who_. You were ready to swing at Lieutenant Anderson and we both know that.” Gavin narrowed his eyes and felt exactly as he did then; challenged, agitated, with a twitch in his lips as they curled back in a snarl.

“You heard him. The way he was talking about you, about  _me_.” RK900 remained unmoving without so much as a flicker in its expression.

“Why do you think I would care what he was saying at all?” Gavin felt his body recline on itself as he realized that it wasn’t only the truth, but the fact he’d nearly started a fight over what the android would have seen as something miniscule and unimportant brought back the embarrassment he hadn’t felt for a couple of days now.

“No words of defense?” Gavin stared at it, and his aggression didn’t leave. The irritation had lingered within him, swirling with sparks in his mind ever since he stepped foot into the meeting room. A frustrating irony as it had gone better than any he’d attended previously, yet he wasn’t satisfied – he’d felt  _worse._

“Ah. Wait. It was not him you were angry at.” Gavin blinked, and in a moment of confusion, his offensive stance faltered.

“It was the fact he pointed out what I’m doing, and that it’s working. Yes? Or at least, combined with your oppositional nature with him. Chen mentioned similarly and it didn’t bother you at all…interesting, the differences in human relationships. So perhaps you were further triggered because you dislike him, but nonetheless, that behavior is inappropriate, and especially in that setting. How is anyone going to take you seriously if you–“

“Maybe I don’t  _want_  them to take me seriously!” His voice raised with a bark, wrinkles forming around his nose as it scrunched, the man baring his teeth not unlike a threatened dog.

“I didn’t  _ask_  for any of this. If I asked you to hurt me, whenever the fuck that was, haven’t you done it enough already?”

Reaching forward, RK900 gripped the simmering tie and pulled Gavin forth by it with a vigorous yank, though its eyes remained steady and its expression nonchalant.

“Some seem to believe I am  _helping_  you, and this is how you treat me?” Anxiety crawled down his back again as his muscles stiffened in the action of being afraid rather than provoked.

“Do you want to revisit the other night?” Gavin’s expression dropped almost immediately as he stared into cold, slate eyes with his own, not quite brave enough to say  _no_.

“Your day was great. Your meeting went fantastic. You got the raise you wanted and you’ve contributed to the Department with advice that they took rather seriously, to everyone’s surprise, even your own. You want to go back on that because of a few words a man said to you?”

“Well, when you put it like  _that…_ ” RK900 allowed itself to feel the emotion Gavin was currently under, calmly settling into the strange, foreign discomfort that made it feel something similar to what it imagined Gavin might have the night he killed its previous chassis. It presumed he still didn’t even remember the event, considering how far under the influence of the medication he had been.

“Indeed.” There was a bite to its tone as an idea bloomed in its mind, tilting its head with a glare that held more bite than Gavin had seen to date. Suddenly, he was trying to pull away, feeling his stomach knot as something like  _horror_  struck him, the innate urge to run making him panic and wrench in a way that encouraged the tie to constrict tighter around his neck, making him bring his hands up to claw at the 900’s hands the same way as he had when it was choking him before.

“Let— _go—_ ” In response to that demand, it pulled him closer, nearly bumping his nose to its own as it brought him near until there was half an inch between them. A different idea followed a different sensation, one that would seem rather random if it didn’t already have a secure database for human psychology, deciding to follow through for the pure sake of instigation.

In what was a pair of seconds for the android and a startling eternity for Gavin, their lips met, and there was the taste of coffee on its mouth in the moment that was shared. Letting go of the tie, it let its arms fall to its side, making no movement to pull away but letting Gavin regain full freedom as he stepped backward so fast he almost lost his balance, smacking a hand to cover his mouth in a moment of combined shock, embarrassment and lingering fright from the way the 900 spoke, looked at him, yanked at him, dragged him, threw him—an image of the android with eyeless sockets pouring shimmering blue blood flashed into his mind, and for a moment he thought he might retch. Why was he seeing things like that, and why at a  _time like this?_

 _What the hell_  flared in his mind, a vibrant neon sign that flashed red flags, and suddenly he felt himself against the wall.

RK900 licked its lips like a hungry wolf, savoring the taste and storing the memory into its hard drives.

“W-wh—what was that about?!” Eyes dilated, his body vibrated with the shaky desire to flee, but all of his proper thinking was thrown out the window with the rush of alarm flashing through his mind. Walking closer, the  _entity_  settled its hands on his waist, glancing down at his midriff as its thumbs brushed under the fabric of his dress shirt, tucking it upward as it rubbed small circles along the inward curve of his hipbones.

“You didn’t like that?” Gavin felt his heartbeat race in his ears at what seemed to be quadruple the rate, feeling ultimately helpless as he stood in place with no idea what to do. Every instinct in his mind warned him to  _fight back_  and try to push the taller  _male_  away, but there was no use as he knew he would easily lose at best, and end up hurting himself again at worst.

“Hm. Interesting. Again, your response seems to depend entirely on who is touching you.” Tilting its head, its demeanor was suddenly soft,  _tender_  while its hand slid up under his shirt, running over the warm, clammy flesh of his muscular stomach, seamlessly sliding apart the buttons with dexterous movements while it traveled its touch up his chest. Once it was halfway and felt the hair of his chest, it curled its fingers, trailing synthetic nails along the flesh of his torso, soft at first, before digging harder until it left whitened streaks behind that quickly turned red in their wake.

Sighing, as if  _bored_ , it let its hands fall away again, feeling no desire to pursue its actions as it stared at Gavin and soaked in the frightened expression on his face, awakening something else in the darkness of its programming. With one hand dipping to the inside of its jacket, it pulled out something Gavin couldn’t see, even when his eyes followed its movements; he only  _felt_  the cold, sharp metal when it was pressed against his neck, and without a moment of thought, he  _yelped_  as soon as the keen blade nudged against his skin.

“I could cut you like tissue paper. Do you want that?” Perplexed and ultimately terrified, wide eyes glanced down towards his own neck, then back up at the 900 as he felt his entire body begin to shake against its own will. He didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to move, lest he shift too rapidly and add another scar to the pile in favor of a healing wound; but there would be no subtlety in going to work with even a cat scratch streak on his neck.

“N…no.” The flow of its own thirium pump seemed to increase as another sensation steamed up from within;  _excitement._

“Beg.” Wincing, Gavin wasted no time in swiftly forming the words and exuding the emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“P-please. Dear god, please, d-don’t hurt me,” he murmured with frightened breaths, a flashback in his mind of the android in the interrogation room that had belonged to 28-stab-wound murder victim, Carlos Ortiz. The way it shook and stared with fear and couldn’t speak, so his suggestion was naturally to try and  _rough it up_ a bit.

Suddenly, he understood how it felt, and it wasn’t a comfortable sensation at all.

“W-we’re partners.  _Friends_. Remember? Th—there’s no need for this,” he murmured, squinting one eye shut as half his mind tried to escape, the other still peeking at  _Nines_ in fear.

“Is that how you felt when you slew me in cold, blue blood?” Eyebrows twitching, they slowly knit together in confusion, but the acknowledgment was apparent as his eyes lit up with recognition.

“I—you— _this is why…_ ” A sly, predatory smile crossed the 900’s features as it let the realization sink in.

“ _Nines_ …” Unsure of what he was really going for, he felt the prick of the sharp blade press against the skin of his neck, nicking it open just enough to sting.

“You—” Catching himself in an  _accusatory statement_ , he paused, briskly swallowing it down.

“I didn’t mean for that,” he said in a whisper, all too aware of the blade against his neck.

“Oh, I doubt that,” it responded, and in the blink of an eye, the blade struck a diagonal line across his neck – nearly parallel to the indented scar on his nose – cutting deep enough to spill a pleasant stream of dripping blood. Tears stung his eyes, and Gavin was quick to find himself sniffling in an attempt not to fully cry.

“You’re a terrible liar, and pathetic at trying to cover your own hide. At this rate, I should fire you.” Surprised, then agitated, then returning to being afraid, Gavin’s face contorted with disbelief.

“You can’t—”

The large hand was tangled in his hair and his skull smacked against the wall, before his balance was thrown and he found himself tumbling to the ground, not unlike how he had the nights before.

“We really need to work on your phrasing, hm?” Bringing a hand to his neck, Gavin tried to press it to the wound as his breathing quickened and he hyperventilated, attempting to ignore the salt water trailing down his cheeks, first in a trickle, then in a flood as rather than trying to flee entirely, he scrambled for a place to hide, ducking down behind the arm of his couch to nestle into the space between the furniture and the wall, bumping the base of the tall floor lamp as he remembered being thrown into the end table mere days ago.

“Oh, how pathetic. Tsk, tsk.  _You_  think  _you_  can get away with being an aggressor, then cower away when the tide shifts against you?”

The next thing he felt was the now well-acquainted yank of his hair, but nothing else, scalp stinging as he was pulled by the fistful of strands alone and scurried to his feet so as not to be simply  _dragged_  by the 900 while following wherever it was leading him.

The next thing he saw was the bed as he was forced to face it, then shoved down into it. His arms were behind his back, his tie was pulled undone, and the nice, freshly ironed shirt was pried off his body as the buttons popped off with the motions.

Then, the pain, similar that of the shattered glass, but more intense as the cuts were much deeper. One, then another, then another, initiating pained screams in response, but it was muffled within seconds as his face was shoved down into the pillow. The weight of the  _body_ pressed against the small of his back as RK900 sat on him, keeping his head shoved down and holding his body still while the other continued to carve in fine, shallow, slow lines across his back.

“Don’t worry. I’ll bathe you and bandage you up.” It’s voice was unnervingly soft, as if it were speaking from the point of view of a tender lover, a stark contrast to the pain he now felt in the front of his neck and scattered across his back.

“Maybe this will be a consistent reminder not to talk back. To  _anyone_.”

-

Once he was out of the bath, he was given a few moments of peace while the android went to make coffee, taking advantage as he shamefully wiped the tears from his face and glanced into the mirror, turning around and casting a glance over his shoulder while he tried to make out how bad the damage was. Another wave of shock that immediately sunk a weight of foreboding into his stomach struck him as he recognized a pattern in the bright red, swollen lines:  **RK900**  could be made out in reverse from the mirror’s reflection, perfectly carved in the all-too-familiar Cyberlife sans. Guilt welled in him, sinking into fear, then depression and raw self-loathing as he stepped back from the mirror, placing a hand against the wall in attempt to stabilize himself as he sunk to his knees on the floor.

He sobbed. For how long, he couldn’t be sure, taking the freedom of isolation to let himself break down, body shaking while any and all coordination and motor function gradually left him, growing unsteady all over again while the tremors revisited him, shaking his entire form in heavy waves of emotion.

-

“You don’t have to shower this morning since I cleaned you up last night. But I do request you give your hair a swift wash and rinse before you put in the product.”

Gavin’s eyes stared at the ground, chin dipped to press against the top of his chest as his head hung, shoulders squared with his hands behind him, fingers interwoven in a  _polite_ posture.

“Yes sir,” he whispered just barely loud enough for its microphones to pick up on. With a snap of its fingers, it pointed to the bathroom, glaring with its usual cold stare as it silently demanded him to get moving, and so he did. As if on cue, it continued to hover close behind while it followed him to revisit the bathroom.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“October 7th, 2039.”

“That’s right. Do you know what that means?”

“It’s my birthday.” It wore a sarcastic smile, pretending to be proud of him for grasping such a basic concept.

“Thirty-seven years old. How do you feel?”

Once he was done making swift work of his hair, a quick and easy routine by now, he turned to face 900 with his arms stiffly returned to his sides. If he told the truth, the response wouldn’t be good, so he made a point to lie through his teeth.

“Fine.”

“It’s Saturday. You have the whole day to celebrate.” Reaching forth, it placed a hand to his cheek – he barely winced, now able to predict and somewhat expect when it was going to lay hands on him, and the times the touches would be gentle rather than abrasive.

“What would you like to do?”  _Sleep._

“I don’t know. I don’t usually celebrate.” Tilting its head back, it cast him a downward gaze before pulling its hand free again.

“That’s a shame. You have so much  _freedom_  now,” it cooed with a generous amount of irony in its tone.

“You have no idea what you’d like to do?”  _I haven’t seen my favorite TV show in a week._

“I’d like to stay home for today, if you don’t mind.”

_Perfect._

“Alright, then. You can change into your more comfortable clothing and spend the day in bed.” The undignified feeling of foolishness rose up within him again as he was treated like a child, but his responses were all but naught.

“Thank you, sir.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday.

With fingertips trailing through his hair, RK900 traced small circles along the side of his head – the right side, right on the temple, a subtle, possessive signal all of its own. Head in its lap, Gavin felt himself drifting out of consciousness from the pure exhaustion that weighed him down more and more every day. Despite its general ill will, the soft touches were comforting, and he’d grown to learn not to refuse them alongside the rougher and more violent interactions all the same.

In fact, he’d stopped refusing much at all, and it seemed the more docile he was, the tamer it treated him. An ugly bandage still stretched across the gash in his neck, along with the plethora of gauze patchwork across his back, but he appreciated having the weekend to recover. With a deep breath, he sighed, lifting sleepy eyelids to glance up at what now seemed to be both his abuser as well as caretaker. If such a thing existed outside of his own head and his own home, at least. No one had an inkling of what was really happening to him and that was possibly the most horrifying aspect of all.

“I want something sweet to eat. Think we can swing it?” Eyes lowering, it lifted its eyebrows slightly in a show of faux surprise.

“You don’t like sweets.”

“It’s my birthday. I want a cupcake.”

“Only one?”

“Well, you won’t be eating one.”

“I suppose not.”

Gavin sighed.

“Sorry for killing you.” This prompted something like surprise within the android, granting more of a reaction than usual while it stilled its motions and froze statue-still to digest what he’d said in a proper, internally responsive manner that took a few seconds of calculation – one of those  _android quirks_  he’d lived with and noticed, a very artificial concept compared to how humans would stop to think, full of emotions, stress, aggression, sadness,  _fury_. The most inhuman part of the 900 was the fact it had to think in order to feel, when humanity was driven by thoughts and feelings beforehand, rather than codes and buttons. It blinked and relaxed into a more semi-natural pose as its eyes stared down at him.

He could never think of this monstrosity as a human, no matter how badly the  _machine_ may have wanted him to.

“You’re thinking of that now?”

“I haven’t really stopped,” he admitted with a shrug.

“Not since it happened.”

“I was under my own assumption you still didn’t remember.” Closing his eyes once more, Gavin shook his head.

“I didn’t. Mostly. But I saw some nasty shit. I still do. The blood, the cuts, the rage.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Grimacing, he frowned, but did little else to move aside from shift onto his side to ease the pain on his back, even if only slightly.

RK900 replayed a ‘memory’ reel of footage in its mind, revisiting the night it was on the floor in mangled pieces and parts, losing blue blood in trickling rivers as Gavin kicked it, and punched it, shot it over and over again. It repeated to itself the warning it told him:

 _“Even if you destroy me, it will haunt you for weeks. Perhaps months.”_  Gavin was resilient enough with pushing down his own internal struggles, making the RK900 acknowledge the fact that in humans, PTSD can block out the memories entirely in favor of instinct and adrenaline kicking in; an experience it would never have. Combined with the overdose of medication, it made sense the psyche would only recall the worst of parts, as negative memories ingrained themselves much harder than positive ones in sentient biological creatures.

“Right. Forgot I’m just a guinea pig for you.” He didn’t sound as bothered as he usually would. RK900 acknowledged the irony within his statement, and stored the concept away for later in case the information might become  _useful_  in the future.

“Oh, don’t be so bothered. I appreciate what positive attributes you  _do_  have to offer.” Gavin didn’t bother to ask what those might be.

“What flavor did you want your cupcake to be?”

“Cinnamon and raisin.”

“I believe that’s a muffin.”

“So? I want it.”

“Anything else?”

“A BLT, fifty dollars, a quadruple espresso mocha with extra sugar and one of those stupid little android toys that you can get with the kid’s meals at Maccy’s.” Without questioning his request, the android paused in place with its LED rotating, sending the order from within as it physically idled the way it usually did when it was  _doing something_  within all the cables and nonsense underneath the external human mannequin.

“So it shall be.”

-

Sitting at the table, he’d set the plastic figurine atop the sandwich and lit a single candle in the top of the muffin as he sat and swirled the cup of coffee in one hand, the other propping him up by the chin as he slumped in front of his food.

“You know how this works, right?”

“Watch your phrasing,” it criticized, all the while encouraging him to sit up straight of his own accord as what was now becoming second nature sunk into his mind.

“You’re supposed to make a wish and blow out the candle.”

“Yeah, well, I never had anything to wish for and I sure don’t have anything now. I just like the tiny fire.”

“In that case, I would loathe to see you with a torch.”

“The 4th of July is fun.” Picking up the toy figure, he bent the arms so they were raised above its head before setting it next to the muffin.

“That’s you, by the way, if you didn’t catch that. See? You’re so excited. Raise the roof ‘n’ all that.” While his voice held its usual contempt, he couldn’t help but smile and huff a laugh as he reached for his sandwich to bite into it. It had been a while since he had a decently cooked, crisp and fresh meal in his hands, and it was quick to show as he tore through it in a matter of seconds.

“Where’s yours?” Gavin paused, as he generally didn’t think about it.

“Gone. You pushed him down the stairs during a bad argument,” he snarked with a small flicker of a smile as he was testing the waters for the reaction. RK900 nearly seemed to  _enjoy_  the response with a smile at his morbid sense of humor.

“You could get a human one and take apart the pieces.” Gavin nearly jumped in his seat, muscles tensing all over again as his imagination ran wild and he imagined some voodoo-doll like effect, envisioning himself on the floor with his limbs detached from him while he drowned in agony and his own blood. The pain on his upper back abruptly dug in with a deep sting, sinking dread into his stomach like a weight that dropped, swelling as nausea struck him and he felt like he might lose the sandwich he’d just eaten, suddenly not so hungry. The first thought in his head was about how he’d shred the plastic casing of the android into splinters, but it was gone as soon as it came while his fear intensified as though he was scared to  _think_  such a thing. With the image of tossing the toy doll into the microwave and watching the grotesque chaos that would follow, he scoffed, standing up to push in his chair before he was stopped by a hand on the back of his neck that prevented him from fully standing up.

“Did I say you could leave your seat?” Gavin froze in place, aside from the shaking that blanketed him all over again, suffocating as he choked on the fearful knot in his throat.

“No.” It was quiet, quick, and most importantly for the RK900,  _automatic._  Unsure whether to sit down or not, he slowly shifted so that his back unfurled from its slope, snapping a few vertebrae in the process as he went to stand up straight with the android’s support.

 _Android._  He wondered if  _this_  what it felt like to rely on nothing but commands alone, thinking about how he probably looked like one of those stock androids standing in the windows of the markets, feeling unnerved by his own idea.

“And?” His eyes stared straight ahead, watering from the unquelled rage boiling beneath his hot, sweaty skin.

“Sorry.” He froze in hesitation.

“Sir.” Contented, 900 pat him on the back in congratulation, ensuring that its hand brushed over the upper edges of the engraved wound still freshly carved into his skin. The bandages didn’t do much to protect him, leaving him to flinch from the sting alone, despite his otherwise stoic expression.

“Oh, you’re doing so  _well_ ,” the 900 sang to him in a nearly delighted voice with a pleased smile.

“Who would have guessed you were such a good listener?” In an instant, it shoved him back down into the chair, trailing its hand up the back of his neck until it had a fistful of hair to steer him towards the burning candle, holding his face close enough to it he could feel the heat on the tip of his nose that quickly grew into a mild burn. Gavin was left speechless, jaw clenched, arms taut and legs stiff in an awkward position as he was lowered down, bringing his hands and elbows to the table to try and support himself with, finding it difficult not to resist and try to push away the way his brain urgently  _demanded_  him to do.

“Finish your meal. And throw that thing away – you’re a grown man, for  _fuck’s_  sake.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 continues a "hands on" approach while Gavin flexes the envelope. Sexual NSFW in this chapter!

Sunday was probably the best day he’d had since before the night of the apparent overdose. Seeing as the 900 was a walking recorder, it wasn’t difficult to sync it to the TV so he could see the episodes of the shows he’d missed throughout the week. With the aching sting in his back turning into constant, miserable itching, it took all the willpower he had not to pry off the wrapping and start scratching at the wounds like mad.

The morning drew into evening which faded into night through a blurry haze. The ceaseless lethargy caught up to him and he spent most of his time watching TV and sleeping, pretending there was nothing else worthwhile in the world around him. Come 6PM – his now-designated dinnertime – the android gripped him by the shoulder and moved him until he stirred. Being pulled out from his snoring slumber, Gavin let out a strange noise that stuck in his throat when he sucked in a breath, awake and aware a bit too suddenly for his body to catch up with. As soon as he recognized the RK900, his eyes were wide and he jolted back, recoiling into the couch before growing still, mentally readjusting.

“It’s time to eat,” it informed him. Smelling the scent of hot and spicy basted Asian food, he stirred from his position of being sunk into the couch cushions. Sitting up, he stood up and stretched with a long yawn before pattering over to the kitchen in the more comfortable getup of sweatpants and socks alone. When he leaned forward over the island cabinet he had in the center of his kitchen to grab his meal, he felt the contact of the other body against his, with the back of his legs and rear against its hips and soon enough, the front of its chassis was pressed against his back with long, powerful arms wrapping around him. Per usual, he stiffened in place, freezing with apprehension as he was never sure what the thing would do next, always wary.

“Carry on with your meal. Don’t mind me,” it coyly assured him, pressing lukewarm lips against his neck – right next to the bandaged wound. How, exactly, it expected him to pretend as though it wasn’t looming over him with its arms trailing around his waist was beyond him, arms growing wobbly with unease while he tried to open the container of food and struggled to thumb off the lid while his mind raced for the proper thoughts and motions. Eventually, he stabbed his fork into the strips of pulled pork and Thai veggies to shove down his throat.

The difference this time was the 900 slipping its hands under his waistband instead of beneath his shirt, one dipping into a side of the v-line curve of his groin while the other made swift work of the tied knot of string that held up his pants. Lost between two places as he felt fear combined with anticipating pleasure, it didn’t take much to get a response from him as his legs bent once a hand grazed in front of his loosened sweats, almost jolting with the fight against himself not to downright pull away.

“What, they give you a sex drive too?” He sounded unimpressed, shifting his weight in the attempt not to buckle. Considering he hadn’t had sex in a long enough time to  _forget_ , it made him easily oversensitive to every touch, a fact he couldn’t even try to deny by the way he shifted his hips forward and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Yes,” it responded blatantly enough to remind him he shouldn’t be surprised, yet as a new angle he hadn’t adjusted to, it cued him to scoff in disbelief.

“I must strain not to make a hardware reference with this one. I think you’ll understand soon enough.” There was no subtlety when he felt the bump against his rear, one he knew all too well from his own personal experience. Usually he took place in the back, however, feeling the overwhelming vulnerability all over again as the squeeze to his dick forced an unsteady sigh from him. Giving up halfway through his meal, he set it down once his stomach didn’t feel so ravenous anymore.

“Fuck’s sake. What are you, an Eden doll? You don’t need any of that.”

“Watch your language,“ it quipped with a quick spank across his ass, creating enough distance between them to make sure he felt the graze of its hand over the fabric of his boxers in one swift, hard motion that made him jump in place.

"The thing with humans is they like to have fun. I suppose I was no exception.”

“What are you, a teenager?” The thought that there weren’t any teenage androids manufactured yet only occurred to him then, and he could only imagine why the idea might not pick up.

“I hope not. That’s more legal obligations than either of us want.” Before Gavin could mouth back, the firm squeeze followed by a few strokes had him all but melting in the android’s arms, leaning back and feeling the burning ache throbbing in the wound on his shoulderblades from the pressure against it, tired of fighting the constant pain of the wounds.

“I didn’t expect this to be so  _easy_ ,” it cooed, kissing under Gavin’s ear, tracing lips and tongue along his jaw and down his neck before suckling a warm hickey between aorta and collarbone.

“H-hey, watch it,” he demanded, but in a softer tone from obedience and distraction combined.

“I can’t be going around work with that.”

“Oh, it’ll hide under your shirt collar. You think I would leave you susceptible to trouble when you’ve been doing so well?” The heat on his cheeks felt like fire; somehow, that was worse, the way this thing could keep everything it’d done to him under wraps and secret, leaving everyone to assume that their relationship was agitating, but platonic and relatively safe. For a moment, he felt like the walls were crumbling around him, but the tension between his legs kept him from focusing on it too much.

“You seem to enjoy this,” it mused, another long, firm stroke causing Gavin’s knees to buckle with a gasp. There was no way he could admit to it, but he was grateful he felt like he didn’t really need to speak by the way he was keening under its touch, heavy breaths soon turning into reluctant grunts and low groans. By the time he’d cum, the android sunk its sharper teeth into his neck with a predatory growl, a satisfied sigh escaping  _both_  of them as Gavin’s body soon grew limp after the release. Taking advantage, the 900 shifted to pick him up in its arms and take him to bed, letting him fumble to grab his food in the process before he was lifted and carried bridal style toward his room.

“That could become a routine, if you like. Orgasms help with a variety of things, from pain to sleep, and I see you could utilize the ease of tension.” Completely ignoring the words as well as the warmth radiating from his body from discomfort, Gavin shoved the last of dinner into his mouth, wincing in pain once he was rolled into bed with more care than he’d expected.

For a few moments, he stared up at the android and its faux gaze of consolation; not an expression he hadn’t seen before but probably one he could expect to see again, more times than he cared to count.

“Could’ve washed your hands,” he murmured, finding himself more tired than usual from the drop of energy, turning on his side to adjust more comfortably into the bed.

“Don’t act like you actually mind.”

-

As usual, Gavin had woken up multiple times throughout the night, with the android taking up the space next to him whether he wanted it to or not. Every time, it pulled him close, dipping its hand into the front of his underwear and making quick work of his sexual tension; he knew what  _it_  wanted by the way it pressed its own erection against his toned ass and pulled his hips back against its own, forced to experience the way it intentionally invaded his sense of physical space until he was fully naked and it was down to the dress pants it’d worn to and from work; the only outfit it had and seemed to need. Eventually he turned to face it, being the first to lock their lips the next time as he brought his hands to run through its hair while they kissed, closing his eyes with the tilt of his head that ensured their noses didn’t bump while they tangled tongues and twisted legs together. Increasing the friction until he’d climaxed again and again,  the humility slowly drained from him if he didn’t think about the ring of light on its head or the stiffness in its grip, losing himself in a sleepy haze and imagining the interaction being much more organic than the cold plastic beast wrapping its body around his.

Times like these, he fully appreciated that it was a secret, as his reputation would never survive the blow if anyone knew about interactions like  _this_. Dozing off again in its arms after each round became easier and more comfortable, feeling safe and protected in its embrace despite the abuse, the knowledge it could snap his neck in a split second; then again, that might be  _why_  he felt safe, an ironic contradiction that he’d always questioned. It seemed similar to how he felt with his father as a child. One moment, they were yelling and he was smacked to the ground, but the next they’d talk over dinner and a beer like nothing had happened. Maybe that was why he was adjusting - or maybe he’d just become masochistic in favor of what he feared.

-

“Good morning,” it offered him with a kiss to his cheek, and it disgusted him how the android treated him like a lover or an enemy depending on its apparent  _mood_  now that it had them.

“Fuck off,” he murmured without thinking, only to feel a hand clenching underneath his jaw, abrupt and immediately familiar.  **Shit**. With his head forced to turn so he was looking at the dreaded face he loathed to see, his eyes flit open as he felt more awake than any espresso mix could ever compare.

“Oh, Gavin…” Its voice held a convincing tone of disappointment.

“I thought we’d gotten past that bad habit.”

“S'rry,” he uttered through forcefully clenched teeth, tilting his chin up in acceptance of the touch, prompting it to loosen its grip enough to let him speak clearly.

“I wasn’t thinking.” That was a blatant lie, as he wanted nothing more than to repeat his actions from the night he barely remembered, envisioning blue blood spilling in sparkling streams from the machine’s eyes in his mind. Every intricate, calculated behavior within the RK900 reminded him  _why_  he absolutely abhorred the artificial constructs.

Despite his halfhearted apology, it could sense his anger, casting a dismayed glare down its nose as it shifted its hand to put an index finger to his lips in a gesture for him to stay quiet. So he did.

-

“Suck. As if your life depended on it. For all you know, it just might.”

Metal against tooth was an uncomfortable collision, and Gavin could taste cold steel and gunpowder. The nozzle slid further into his mouth, propping his jaws open awkwardly as his eyes never left the android’s, visibly drained of energy with cold, distant exhaustion. The next command took a moment for him to follow through with as he hesitated before he hollowed his cheeks, wet lips curled around the barrel while he swallowed it down until he felt the end nudge against the back of his throat with most of the gun’s length out of view.

“Keep going.” Gavin flinched as he usually did while the familiar twinge of embarrassment stirred in his gut, darkening his cheeks with anxiety and humiliation once again—he couldn’t remember how many times it had put him in this kind of position by now. Still, he curled his tongue around the bottom of the barrel, sucking in a breath through his nostrils as he swallowed and tried not to  _grunt_  or  _moan_  while he the weapon was shoved down as far as it would possibly go.

Squeezing the trigger, the 900 waited for the small  _click_  to sound as Gavin flinched, squinting his eyes shut in his usual record time with tears streaming down his cheeks, nearly gagging with the noisy sobs that erupted while he tried to prepare for a bullet to fly through the back of his throat. Once he realized nothing had happened, he slowly opened his eyes to look up at 900 – who hadn’t moved, smiling with an unsettling, cocky laugh. He recognized the simulated response as one he’d have pulled in the past, an unspoken mockery of his being. It made him shudder and gag at himself with the combination of fear, agitation and self-hatred all at once. Unfortunately, it erupted an undesired response as it caused him to lurch, turning his head away while he yanked back. Within a second, there was a hand in his hair holding him in place and another deep, haunting chuckle.

“You knew it wasn’t loaded, didn’t you?” Something between a genuine question and a taunt;  _that_  was a tone of voice the android used that Gavin already became familiar with. It didn’t make him feel any less like an incompetent fool being scolded, however.

“I  _thought_  it was,” he murmured, considering he was never sure what this  _thing_  was preparing to do to him next, let alone what it had touched or gotten into, behind his back or from places he couldn’t see or be around for.

“Do you think I would kill you?” Something in his mind flashed white as he wasn’t sure how to respond, only that the question roused a feeling as though he was spinning within the thought alone, images of all the deaths he’d seen in his life flashing in front of his mind at rapid speed. Gavin had been in lethal positions plenty of times, in multiple ways, but he’d never had his own life dangled in front of him on a thread like this. It was hard to hear anything through the rushing pulse and rapid breaths shaking his body as his instincts took comfort in the fact he wasn’t so close to death anymore, but his conscious mind fully feared for his life, cuing him to spring to his feet and start crawling over the bed as fast as he could.

For the time being, the RK900 merely watched. It had spent enough time cornering Gavin, but what would happen if it played cat-and-mouse, leaving him to follow where his terror-fueled, impulsive mind might drive him to, only to find himself cold and alone in the usual, repeated cycle?

Something unfamiliar stirred within it, but as it tended to do with any suspicious coding, it was quick to delete and therefor forget and discard whatever piece of unrecognizable data had wormed its way in, one way or another. So came the bearings of being a machine capable of learning, taking any external information it possibly could to store away for later; at times it simply wasn’t practical to  _split wires_  over picking apart what should be kept in its processing and what should be left behind when it didn’t understand all the commands in the first place. Such a concept might be worth paying attention to, but by now it could differentiate useful computing versus the occasional stray software getting shuffled into a place it shouldn’t, navigating RAM until all of the carefully placed pieces of information seemed ‘correct’ and ‘in order’ as to how the android’s consciousness supposedly operated. Amanda wasn’t always so easy to negotiate with, but with how much it was capable of, they were both quick to realize they would be unstoppable partners together no matter what the mission was, or what might drive them for success. She ultimately didn’t mind what it did in its  _leisure time_  as long as it got its jobs done, and with how well and hard it worked, the percentages of success had been much higher than its prototype.

There was a heavy  _thump_  as Gavin tumbled to the ground, tucking and rolling in a movement faster than he could have gone by crawling, before lunging to his feet and darting down the hall in a hustle. The android waited, leaning back in the bed until it was flat on its back, tossing the gun aside to drop onto the floor and closing its eyes in favor of drifting into rest mode. It internally preconstructed the theoretical maps Gavin would be racing along while its power cut itself into a lower portion and the internal screen went blank.

-

Two hours. Three. Four. Wherever Gavin went, he must have found it better than being in his own home, but if it waited  _too_  long for his return, it could be faulted for his disappearance; it couldn’t have that.

Onto its feet and outside the house, it performed a quick scan that identified Gavin’s footprints, leading the start of a long trail throughout the city as a guide to where he’d gone.

Half an hour, three buses and a taxi later, its night vision clicked on to focus and zoom in for an analysis of Gavin and his  _sustainability_ , measuring statistics over the small injuries and rapid-fire brain activity that plagued his physical as well as psychological health. There was nothing in his erratic behavior that was worthwhile to it, leaving the human and his own life to serve barely a small purpose to an ultimate goal.

Once they were through the front door, Gavin was unconscious from exhaustion, carried across town since the minute the android cared to find him. It wondered what his opinion might be when he wakes up this time, and how it might differ from the last, or how exactly the same it might remain after their intensive interactions, as unpredictability was of his nature.  
Anything else could be fixed. Practice made perfect, after all.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day together and more exploration of the aspect to their relationships. Gavin almost makes a wrong move.

[ _Was it all just in my head?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrwpITTBFaY)  
[ _I feel your hands around my neck_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrwpITTBFaY)  
[ _‘Cause you took what you thought was yours_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrwpITTBFaY)  
[ _Now I’ll take mine_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrwpITTBFaY)  
[ _Don’t pretend you’re innocent_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrwpITTBFaY)  
[ _An eye for an eye_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrwpITTBFaY)

-

While his sleep gradually became regular and he’d learned to follow a strict schedule while maintaining a timeframe for personal hygiene and a few minor slots for space to himself, Gavin still felt surprised to wake up and see cold, distant silver rings staring him down.

They held infinite knowledge, and this  _individual_  model had a deep understanding of himself that made him sick to his stomach, as 900 could pull up anything he might want to keep secret and hold it to his face on a whim. Wondering exactly how it knew so much about him, alongside the memories of his interactions in the DPD, the detective part of his brain stirred as he pieced together an assumption: the tablet news articles he’d skimmed over were probably right, assuming Cyberlife must have taken the department’s security camera recordings and uploaded them to the RK900. One of Connor’s biggest flaws, as Gavin and his co-workers never shied from talking about, was the inconsistent “memory” loss from the amnesia between deaths. A different Connor didn’t remember it’s past chassis’ demise or seemingly anything before it, and any other pieces of information that might have been lost from the internal damage; meanwhile it was blatantly clear the RK900 remembered what it and its previous model experienced, and much more from before it was made at all, making him wonder if it held the remaining memories of the old RK800s as well. In his mind, it was the only way to make sense of how it could indicate his emotions and preferences down to a point he didn’t acknowledge in himself; the base of what was so terrifying to him as the androids knew him  _too_  personally and were capable of spreading that information to what might as well be a global scale on a whim, by how he felt. It probably knew the same amount or  _more_  about the others that worked at the department, but had no inclination to pay attention to such a thing while he was the one  _singled out_.

Running away had given him all the more time to become absorbed in his own paranoia, glancing back down every alleyway turn as he’d ran for hours, feeling the stretch of his physical endurance as his lungs burned and his muscles felt red-hot. He’d ran, climbed, jumped, dug and swam as far as his body could take him for any sense of unfamiliarity, wanting nothing more than to escape this living hell he’d been stuck in. No matter his attempts, there was no satisfaction as he knew he’d never entirely escape, proven by the fact he woke up in his own bedroom all over again - dressed down to his boxers despite the fact he’d left fully clothed. He could already imagine the scornful tone the 900 probably used when it talked to itself, as it often did, likely saying something about how he’d ruined perfectly good, new clothes with mud stains, sweat, or whatever else it could think of. Lost in thought, he didn’t turn to look at the android until the familiar, pale hand waved in front of his face, a clear demand for his attention. His eyes followed the movement of its hand, then trailed to its eyes, blinking a few times as he tried to shake off the sleep still fogging his mind.

“You have scars dating back to childhood. To infantry. What tragedies have you suffered?” Gavin nearly choked on his drink, scoffed, and then laughed a fake, dry chuckle that lasted all of four seconds before he straightened out again.

“I don’t really want to go down that road, if you don’t mind,” he muttered, his gaze only halfway focused on RK900 as he otherwise looked straight ahead. The second half of his statement was touching dangerous territory, he knew, but forming sentences right after he woke up was still difficult.

“I asked you a question, and it wasn’t for a response of personal opinion.” The demand only reached halfway through his mind as his thoughts drifted off, feeling the swooping dizziness of exhaustion trying to tug him back into unconsciousness. Rapidly snapping fingers caught his attention anew, tired eyes glancing up and over to the android again, seeing that it was visibly ‘growing impatient’ with a glare that signaled an unfortunate demise in his favor if he didn’t respond fast.

“It’s a broad question.” Acknowledging the truth in his words, it nodded, eyelids flickering with a millisecond of understanding.

“The worst thing you remember.”

Ah. All it wanted was his agony; yet again, he chastised himself with the awareness that he should have known better.

“Why do you wanna know that?”

“Consider it another simple curiosity.”

“ _Worst_  is a real hard pick, buddy. I guess the first thing that comes to mind was being shoved back against the hot stove, while the burner was still on fire. That weird ring of a scar on my shoulder, next to your second zero? Yeah, that was that.” While he tried to remain stoic in his speech, Gavin couldn’t help the way his voice grew low and quiet whenever he talked about this – which was, ultimately, never. It hurt too much, and it made him feel embarrassed,  _weak_. 900 wanted to feed off of that misery, he knew, but he wouldn’t let it get away with it more than he could help.

“That  _is_  a particular burn scar.” Gavin turned his head, squinting at the android as he made another attempt at piecing together exactly how the machine worked, and what it knew, alongside  _how_  it knew what it did. Sometimes it talked to him like it had known him since high school, yet others he’s reminded they’d only been  _working together_  for a couple of months now, if he added the two days before the first weekend. They’d only ‘grown closer’ since, and the way the RK900 hadn’t left his sight since day one was more than irksome, given the circumstance.

Gavin considered the idea this could be sort of a game to the android’s mind, as it seemed to respond to some things in such a way, and with this being his personal history, he was almost certain it would find some sort of entertainment in the exchange.

“What do you wanna know all that for, anyway? Er, don’t hit me, please – I mean it.” Lifting his hands with his palms in an immediate motion of surrender, he felt his heartbeat pump blood at a quicker and heavier rate once he’d caught his own words. Eyes on the RK900, he felt relieved to see it didn’t look too bothered.

“You asked this question already, but I suppose stating it as a mere interest of mine is a bit of a dead end for you. I want to know why you aren’t so physically fit in your age for how hard you work your body, and why you’re prone to muscle straining. I’ve learned it’s because you’re always tense, so something like a heavy gun recoil when you’re holding the rifle too tight nearly dislocates your shoulder. With your constant body tension, that encouraged me wonder why you clench up all the time in the first place, and with that added to the many scars across your epidermis, I assumed a history of physical violence would make one keep his guard up at any and all times possible the way you do.”

Gavin hated being accessed like he was a hospital test subject, but all he did was lower his arms to his sides and return to his regulated posture.

“What are some of the worst things you’ve done to someone else?” Heavy discomfort pressed down on Gavin’s chest, increasing his rapid breathing while an ugly sensation of guilt and well-aged self-disgust stirred him with nausea. No  _human_  had known to ask him about such a thing, and if they did, they weren’t brave enough to bring it up to his face.

“Being a crime scene detective is a morbid job to pick, but it was easier for you to accept that your life was already full of trauma and violence, correct? It’s not an uncommon pattern, but in you, it’s fascinating.” Gavin didn’t dare look at the android.

“At least I can justify shooting someone if I have a badge to back me up.” His voice was thick as an uncomfortable lump stuck in his throat and pulled his voice box tight. The urge to cry was already warbling his speech. 900 raised its eyebrows in mock surprise with a tone of disbelief in its voice.

“That implies you’ve shot people before you were on the police force. That would have been a felony and put you in prison,” it said, eyebrows scrunching while it processed the aspect in its artificial mind, “unless you weren’t caught.” In a moment like this, Gavin would usually feel cocky, shining a mocking grin in the face of whoever he’d consider an enemy, but he’d learned better than that by now. Listening to the android pick him apart and ask the most personal questions about his history was an overwhelming discomfort, and one he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape. Sometimes it was easier to go along with it and power through the engagement, but by the end it usually lead to him feeling a flood of emotions he hadn’t touched in years or decades, generally all at once in overabundance, throwing him into a mental breakdown from the psychologically and physically invasive aftermath.

“Yeah. I dunno, someone hurt my family and we just grew up doing whatever it took to make it right.” At least, that’s what his dad said, and as far as he knew, his own ancestors.

“The way you say that with ease means it doesn’t measure up to the more vicious actions you’ve carried out, in your mind. You must find comfort in seeing the darkness of others like you. Though, I’m sure you never would have imagined yourself being a victim.”

“That make you a suspect?” Gavin knew his phrase was wittingly sharp, but he slid under the excuse of being unable to help it. RK900 smirked.

“Only those with evidence towards guilt would a suspect make. No one assumes anything from me, so no. You’re on your own.” Discomfort stirred in his chest again, leaving him to feel unsteady on his feet. The android acknowledged the way he swayed, lethargy and gravity trying to pull him down.

“You haven’t slept so well, I see. We can pick up this discussion later.” Confused, then agitated,  _then_ complacent, Gavin went through the mental gymnastics of understanding and reluctantly accepting the situation. No matter how annoying the 900 was, sleep sounded  _great_.

“Okay.”

“Try again.” A twitch of irritation pulled up his shoulder as he was unable to help the flinching every time he was told to speak the same words he’d grown to loathe:

“Yes, sir.”

-

“You lied to me. Don’t think I couldn’t tell.” Gavin wished he could do more than freeze and stand still every time the damn machine opened its mouth.

“You don’t care about your family, and you definitely wouldn’t risk your life for them. You shot that person for a reason you probably know was selfish.”

“Thanks for letting me  _sleep_ ,” Gavin murmured, rubbing his eye as he tried to wake up a little more.

“What happened? Did you feel justified in your actions?”

“Yeah, if the guy deserving to be shot is what you see as  _justice_ ,” he muttered, shuffling to pour another cup of coffee.

“I asked for your opinion.” Yawning, Gavin shook his head as he tried to understand where the android was going with this, only to find yet another dead end.

“In my opinion, he’s dead fucking meat and deserved to get eaten by the maggots. Are we done here? I’ve got work today—” there was an abrupt prong in his side where the taser usually went, but this time it was but the sharp end of a tonged barbecue fork, painful enough to make a point without doing any real damage to Gavin or his clothes. Flinching, he sucked in a breath and scooted away from the item.

“Er. Right,” he murmured with a sigh of defeat.

“Sorry. Yeah, I feel like I was right. He’s not hurting anyone else anymore, now is he?”

RK900 narrowed its eyes, staring at him for a few long seconds as something within its emotional coding decided it didn’t particularly feel comfortable around someone like this. It was something like fear, at a lower level, but still complicated enough it didn’t understand it, searching for a dictionary definition to replicate and apply to the sensation.

It took a few seconds, but Gavin caught on, turning his head to the side as he was suddenly brave enough to step forward, inspecting the expression on the android’s face. One of the most human ones of all, he was sure of it;  _uncertainty_.

“What? Are you scared of what I’m capable of?” While the giveaway of stress was gone from its facial expression, it shifted into a combative stance without any prompt telling it to do so.

“I would worry for the sake of the other human lives you’ve interfered with, but that would be useless as I’ve now fixed the problem.” Gavin didn’t feel so brave anymore.

“You look like you’re  _scared_  I’ll hurt you again, Nines.” RK900 paused, genuinely processing the statement and cycling it through its mind with a yellow, blinking LED and a few seconds to idle.

“I don’t know why only now my emotional replicative processors are acknowledging your potential of being dangerous towards me,” it said in a voice that held modest confusion. Gavin studied its posture while it shuffled through its own coding, pulse flooding his ears as he wanted to repeat the night all over again in an act of vengeance, but felt much too terrified to do more than move from his position and try to brace himself for the worst.

“I thought only deviants were scared of dying,” Gavin spoke with a sharp tongue. This time, the android was the one that didn’t move, shifting its expression to show its confusion as it caught Gavin’s gaze straight on.

“You’re always asking me questions; can I have a turn?” Its eyes studied him, but even if it could read every physical statistic of his body, it wouldn’t find an answer for what it was looking for. Immediately recognizing it as an irrational instruction, the piece of code was deleted, leaving it to readjust its posture and stand up straight again.

“Sure,” it obliged, partially in challenge. Gavin went to fold his arms over his chest before feeling the tightness of his work shirt shift over his skin, a swift reminder to limit his posture and cuing him to return his arms to his sides. In a moment of realization, he turned to grab his coffee cup that was now turning cool, glancing at the watch on his wrist without thinking twice as he clocked the time, feeling the anxiety ease away from him as he ensured he wasn’t late.

It was harder to put his thoughts into words than he anticipated, leaving him to shift his weight and lean back against the counter in thought with another sip of coffee. He could learn anything in the existence of human knowledge from this thing, and while what he’d ask would never be ultimately important, he knew he had to watch his words when he tried to talk with it.

“What’s your goal? Everything has to relate to something for you, right? That’s how it works up there?” He gestured an index finger towards his right temple, an obvious signal, although mocking, of what he was talking about.

“Anyway, the hell—er. What are you trying to learn now? Doing all this? To me? I don’t get it.” The admission was harder than he’d assumed it would be, leaving his body shaking with the realization he’d offered raw emotional vulnerability. Curling his hands into fists, he pretended to shove away the anxiety.

RK900 seemed to sincerely consider the question, its expression softening as it turned its head to register the look on Gavin’s face. It’s library of pre-programmed facial expressions seemed like a farce compared to watching a human like him in action.

“Your instructions were embedded into my coding and I followed them.” There wasn’t a reason for it to keep hurting him after the first night, though.

“After that, I suppose it was of my own accord. Something about it is…” it paused, quickly searching its database for a synonym that it found suitable for the context of their discussion.

“Gratifying.” Gavin raised his eyebrows with the familiar knee-jerk reaction of fear making him scoot away from the android a bit more, feeling the shift of new, clean bandages on his back; for the most part, the itching and aching faded into the background of his conscience, but it was always more apparent whenever the 900 made a verbal point of  _hurting him for its own pleasure._

“Politically speaking, androids may obtain rights, but we have yet to suffer from  _wrongs_. You can’t put me in a fair trial, you can’t throw me in jail, and you can’t have me destroyed. There’s no way to get rid of me, and your point makes me curious as to why this is the case as well.” After it dawned on him the android wasn’t aware of  _why_  it was doing what it was at all, he set down his coffee cup in a moment of nausea and turned away to head towards the door, breaking his well-trained character in an anxious moment of forgetfulness.

“Can we talk about that on the way to work?” With nothing cuing it to get rough with its hands, it opted to follow through for now; getting work done was still its main priority, no matter what else took up its time on the sidelines. It considered Gavin a personal side project, something that wasn’t necessarily beneficial to the Cyberlife team or the DPD, but a show of human psychosis that taught it more about the species’ functionality as a whole every day.

Gavin grabbed his jacket and unlocked the door, bustling through as he glowered at the falling snow, pulling the hood up and momentarily admiring the faux fur that lined the back of it – another one of 900’s precise purchases, of course – as well as the fact he was actually  _warm_  in it compared to the old worn-down leather coat and pair of sweaters he’d worn holes through over the years. Slipping into the passenger seat without further comment, Gavin adjusted the seat on his side and leaned back with a sigh as his stomach grumbled in a harsh reminder he’d skipped breakfast.

“What did you wish to discuss?” Gavin cast it a look of annoyance, but shook his head, glowering out the window and sliding back in his seat.

“Nevermind. Anyway, I’m putting in a request to get you off my cases as my partner, so don’t be surprised if you get fired.” The engine of the car had started humming, but 900 hesitated on the prompt that would begin its designated route as it internally put together exactly what Gavin had just said.

“And you didn’t notify me?”

“Well, what you said was right, you don’t really have a place in society. Sucks not having rights, huh?” Feeling smug, he had all of a few seconds to smirk before he felt the grip of its large, crushing hand around his neck, and all certainty and ego was quick to drain from him as the color disappeared from his face.

“I think you’ll realize that I have a  _right to end your life just as you did mine._ ” Confused, Gavin furrowed his brows, but he no longer felt any challenge left in him as he sat up in his seat, eyes locked on the android’s. He wanted to think the android wouldn’t kill him, that he didn’t believe it, but that would be false, and they both knew it. Whatever the  _upgrade_ did to this android, it was a constant threat in his favor, and he was too quick to forget just how real the threat was. It was as surreal as it was terrifying to think one of the dreadful machines had his life in its grip, ready to crush him to pieces as soon as it had the opportunity. He revisited the fact it branded him with deep, permanent lacerations for the satisfaction of seeing it alone, even if its own model turned out to be temporary – it would still haunt Gavin for the rest of his life.

Whatever he’d done to it the night of his overdose must have ingrained something awful within it, and he couldn’t decide if this was his own fault or not.

“I suggest you close your mouth before I shove your head to the gravel while the car is still moving.” Without another comment, 900 let go of Gavin and the car pulled from its position in park and started driving itself towards the department.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 asks Gavin about some personal history, and he has a hard time talking about it. Immediate sexual NSFW material.

The android was so human-like, he could have almost forgotten the fact in the heat of the moment. The saliva, the warmth of its mouth, the curve of its tongue and softness of its lips left Gavin to wonder how, exactly, it was  _possible_ to make androids feel so realistic, momentarily thinking about the synthetic microfibers that wove false flesh and hair before the train of thought was lost as he heaved a few deep breaths.

“Ah,  _fuck_ ,” he hissed as his hips bucked forward, one hand cradling the android’s head while the other brushed his thumb over its cheek, taking a moment to look over the details of its face under heavy eyelids with an expression close to awe prompting a questioning gaze from 900. The way it looked up at him from between his legs with his dick shoved deep into its throat was a view he wanted to  _remember_. With a few more forceful thrusts, his body spasmed as he filled the cavity of its mouth with a burst of precum, letting out a low, drawn-out groan.

“Is this why everyone’s fucking androids these days?” As if on cue, RK900 withdrew to pull out most of Gavin’s length, before pressing its lips to the tip and quickly taking it back into its mouth with slow, firm movements, vigorous in its every action as it sucked and swallowed until its lips met the patch of hair at the base of his groin. Combined with the lustful look in its gaze, it was enough to send him over the edge, eyes rolling back into his head as he growled and thrusted a final few more times as he rode out the orgasm and milked his mess into the android’s mouth, leaving it to lick up the final drops. With a sigh, he leaned back against the couch, laying an arm across his forehead and closing his eyes as he caught his breath, relieved to feel a majority of his body’s tension leave him all at once.

“Yep… that must be why.”

There was a new sensation that rose within the 900, something  _playful_ stirring as it experienced a new desire. Slowly withdrawing, it moved away from Gavin once the flesh was out of its mouth, leaving behind a trail of sperm and synthetic saliva when it pulled back. Feeling a particular need, it panted in beckoning, staring up at Gavin with sultry, eager eyes that made him blush from  _looking_ at them alone. After a moment, Gavin caught its gaze, shifting in his seat as it nuzzled against his inner thigh, trailing a few nibbling kisses along the bare skin. The sight of its complexion, smeared with the added sticky mess left him feeling satisfied and superior, licking over his teeth as his fingers combed into its hair all over again.

“Gavin,” it whispered in a smooth voice that made him shudder.

“I know you want to fuck me. Why haven’t you yet?” Eyes widening, the surprise from the question alone was enough to make him jump in his seat. He tried to figure out how to answer an inquiry like  _that_ from none other than this particular model, of course.

“I, er. Kinda wanna keep my junk where it is, in one piece. I’m not gonna try forcing anything into you I might not get back,” he stated with flat humor as he tried to avoid the discomfort of saying he was scared of getting hurt; or worse, should he do the wrong thing.

Sighing, it trailed its lips up his leg until it nuzzled against his groin, nudging beneath his balls to take them into its mouth and suck. Still feeling sensitive, Gavin writhed in his seat, gasping with surprise in response to the sensation and how  _delightful_ it felt.

“Good to know you’re still seeking for permission before you make another stupid mistake,” it muttered even from its position. An abrupt desire to smash its head between his thighs sent a tingle in his spine, but it was already swift to read his shift in attitude before he’d even been aware of it; leaning away and standing up so it was well above Gavin’s height, satisfied by the shift of location and dynamic.

“We can do that later, as I still enjoy it when you’re left wanting more.” Gavin hated embarrassment as much as any other emotion, humiliation sinking hot needles as he closed his eyes, momentarily lost in the fantasy of rawing the 900 until its asshole turned white from the wear.

“Now, I suggest you get some sleep, but cleaning up first wouldn’t hurt you.” Scowling up at it, he already wanted to shut it up with his cock all over again, a sigh escaping him as he stood up without bothering to re-clothe himself. He wasn’t sure if he’d get any action in the night, but either way, he knew by now he’d wake up in sticky sheets.

“Thanks for letting me fuck your mouth,” he murmured with a small but coy smile as he appreciated the irony in his statement.

“I want my turn next time.” Any sense of humor immediately dropped from his face.

“Yeah, I really don’t do that kind of thing,” he stated, rubbing the back of his neck as the awkwardness crept over him.

“Then I suggest you start practicing, lest you make a mess of yourself and your remaining humility.”

-

As it was sucking him off another time, it paused briefly midway through, making him eagerly thrust into the cool air as it lowered its head to lick down his shaft from the underside, grazing its tongue along his balls before nudging up his legs and nuzzling behind those, too, into the crevice of thick hair and sweaty, hot skin. Gavin only shifted when he felt the pressure from a bit further  _back_  than usual, slowly opening his eyes to try and glance over at 900 from his position on the bed.

“Wh’t’re you doin’?” His voice slurred from the blend of lethargy and lust. The RK900 didn’t personally respond, simply pulling apart the muscular mounds of flesh that were his buttcheeks with a free hand pressing back his leg and thus nearly pinning his knees to his shoulders as it splayed him out in an awkward position, ultimately causing him to blush hard enough it might end up permanent.

“Hey. I already said I don’t do that,” he sleepily demanded, almost lowering his legs before he was frozen in motion by a sensation so striking it put all coherent thought to a halt. Strange, wet, invasive,  _warm_  and new, prompting him to suck in a breath as it repeated. Revolted by the foreign feeling alongside the fact he was going along with it, he snarled and went to sit up with the intention of guiding the 900’s head back up to his hard on, but then it did a particular motion with its tongue that made his body arch back again, subconsciously spreading his legs with a low groan. It was weird to him that he seemed to take pleasure in what it was doing, noticing he was gripping the sheets with vigor, and huffed out a deep breath as his penis twitched in eager response.

“I believe the term is rimming. Some might call it salad tossing, but I don’t see the resemblance.” Panting, Gavin felt like the heat radiating from his body might swallow him whole, trying to will away the vibrant pink lighting up his cheeks and ears.

“I thought you might like it,” it whispered coyly before repeating the action, leaning in close to lick over his asshole once, then again, then a third time before dipping in the tip of its tongue inside, the act sending a surge of lightning throughout his body with an awkward jolt.

“That’s disgusting,” he murmured. Closing his legs and sitting up, he put his hand to its face and shoved it away from his body. It was visibly reluctant, excited it seemed to have finally found a  _nice_  spot, but followed through with leaning away.

“I’ll never understand your idea of repulsion,” it admitted, catching him off guard with the acknowledgement he’d never considered the fact. It wasn’t like it made a lot of sense to him; being disgusted by a mouth in your shitter seemed reasonable in his mind.

“You’ll fuck assholes, but when I lick yours, you get shy?” Gavin growled, pulling up his pants almost to prove its point as he’d started losing the mood.

“I liked stuffing your mouth better, at least then you shut up.”

The RK900 stood motionless, letting the silence hover in the air as imaginary tension dug into Gavin’s conscience, letting him have a few moments to let his own words really sink in. Regret didn’t have the chance to catch up to him before the backhanded swing to his face sent him spiraling backwards and towards the floor.

“ _Fuck_! I’m sorry, okay? I-I didn’t mean that, Nines. Please, don’t hurt me. I, I love listening to you.” He ushered the words, but 900 easily saw through the lie.

“You’re not gonna–” he felt fear encompass him as his vision went black and ear-ringing pain was the last thing he felt, the final thought in his head being his mistake of starting an assertive statement that began with  _you_.

-

“We’re stopping the sex for now. Pick a pair of underwear to wear to sleep, so you stop making a distasteful mess of the sheets.” His ears still rung from the blow.

Old, forgotten feelings stirred up in him, a few he thought left behind in his adventure of climbing the ladder of life and career, but the pang in his chest was impossible not to recognize. Desperation. Loneliness. Co-dependence. He’d finally grown so comfortable with the communication of touch between them, and the 900 seemed set on forcefully taking that away, and so quickly after he’d adjusted that the shock alone came as a surprise to him.

“Aw, Nines…come on…” he tilted his head and tried his best to add a convincing whine to his voice, but he could tell the android wasn’t having it – he could sense the agitation like he might have angered an actual authority figure, the sensation of being easy prey revisiting him as the android caught his gaze.

“We were just getting started. You were—I mean, I thought— _I_  was having a good time,” he bargained, frustration bubbling up in response to being unable to speak the way he wanted to and had been used to for the majority of his life. 900 was right when it brought up the point in the first place; his statements always relied on the victim to be a receptive party, or it wouldn’t go smoothly in his favor.

“Oh, sure,  _now_  you whine. When you can’t have what you want. Looks like you’re back to getting off on the weird internet stuff,” it spoke nonchalantly with a looming gaze that it ensured Gavin could  _feel_ staring to his core.

“I don’t condemn your tastes, but I deleted the malware off your laptop and installed a proper firewall for you. It should run more smoothly now.”

Humiliation. Anger. Anxiety. Only when he shifted to move did he realize he was physically bound again, this time with his arms behind his back and nothing else, laid uselessly on the ground. Sarcastic comebacks swarmed through his mind, but being ever-aware of his position kept him biting his tongue. Needless to say, the binding was uncomfortable and being face-down on the floor was becoming one of his least favorite positions.

“That mean you can untie me now?”

“No,” it responded immediately, tapping a finger to its cheek as it idly ‘thought’ through a small collection of prompts to sort through and select one.

“Well, I mean, I could, but this is more fun. At least, for the time being.” With its studious glare looking him over, it surveyed him like a science project, slowly walking over to him before leaning down beside him on the floor, doing little more than watching, scanning and processing. All the more freaked out, Gavin turned his head away in a panic of feeling observed much too closely.

“I think that while our time together has been productive, you’ve come to rely on it too much. To an extent, so have I. The automatic adaptability features in my programming have shown me exactly how dangerous it can  _be_  to adjust so well. I suppose part of that understanding, I also owe to you.” He was surprised to find that he understood what the android was saying. Codependent behavior between a human and an android was nigh on unspoken of, which somewhat explained its insistence on keeping their private interactions such a secret; at first, it seemed reasonable, but now he realized exactly the extent it worked to make sure no one caught wind of what happened behind the locked doors. Whether or not he could discuss the matter at all with anyone in the precinct had woven in and out of his mind, but ultimately lead down to him being too scared to mention anything, anyway. He was acting better, it made everyone happier, and to them, the updated android was nothing but a bright, shining angel that could do little to no wrong.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth with how he could see the burning wings every time it so much as glanced his direction.

“I should keep our interactions to work hours, but I don’t trust you enough to behave for that kind of lenience.” The longer he thought about it, the more he wondered why, exactly, he was in this position. Cyberlife, the government, and the police department themselves may or may not have known the extent of the situation, but the cognitive dissonance that came with the debate of what position androids played in society ensured there was no way of knowing that anyone cared. As far as he knew, he was stuck in this situation for an undetermined amount of time either way.

“It seems that adapting to your personality in particular can set off, well, a range of diverse responses, but I’m not sure the treatment I have conducted is ideal in the long run. On the bright side, once you’re well-trained enough, you might not even need an android detective for a partner. Wouldn’t that be nice?” It reached forward and tapped its hand to his cheek a few times with a smile – sure enough, a mirrored reflection of an action he’d done some time ago, once he thought the 900 spoke too highly of itself in their first week together and back when he couldn’t take the damn thing seriously. The way his own mocking ego shined through its semi-unique facial features was nothing short of terrifying.

“Can you imagine living in a world where you could do things  _all on your own?”_ Statements like this, Gavin didn’t entirely understand, as he’d never dug so deep with the android, even on his bad days and before the ‘incident’ with the Vicodin. There wasn’t enough personality to an android in the first place for there to be anything to dig up, just the same repeated insults and phrases that even grew old to him after a while. The RK900 seemed to have a personal mission to claw as deep into his history as possible and use it against him, claiming he’d told it to do so in the first place; but when? Lacking memory of anything like it, he had to wonder if his supposed instructions were actually that specific, or if the robot had dramatized the response – as it hinted when it hesitated the moment he’d asked – creating a loophole in both of them. In a moment of agitation, he silently wished he could run Cyberlife’s entire company into the dirt for what this specific model was doing to him, personally.

“Look, if I have to shower and groom every morning of my life to get you off my back, I’ll do it. This is—”  _ridiculous_  almost left his mouth before he caught himself, clearing his throat and flashing 900 a fake, sarcastic smile from his place on the ground as he rolled onto his shoulder, grunting with discomfort as tendons popped from the pressure and awkward positioning.

“W…weird…not right,” he said slowly in attempt to communicate how he felt without getting sparks crisply jabbed into his skin again.

“You know that, right?” The uncertainty in his question made the 900 pause with a downcast gaze of curiosity, acknowledging ‘doubt’ as something attempting to block its own processing. Immediately considering it useless, it tossed the sensation into abyss of permanent deletion.

“You forget I have no moral coding, metaphorically or literally. Is my behavior unusual? Perhaps. Is there anything wrong with it? That would depend on who you ask. You’ve done your fair share of ugly things, but humans are only offended when they are challenged, and artificial intelligence takes up to a task they see as unsightly.” Closing his eyes, Gavin sighed, wishing the thing would stop talking.

“That is to say, you’re right about one thing; something is amiss with this dynamic, and I think I’ll change my course of actions from now on. Don’t get your hopes up; I’m not afraid to kill you,” it continued, speaking of his life with the same weightless, casual tone it used with the rest of its words.

“I have been learning from you. You have been learning from me. I wonder if we can keep such a dynamic without the violence.” Gavin felt like his consciousness was slipping away from him, with how hard it was to believe the words he was hearing.

“I’m tied up on the ground, how is that  _less_  violent?”

“You misunderstand the meaning of violence. I haven’t hurt you, simply stopped you from doing something. That would be more suitably akin to repression.”

Gavin rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, counting his blessings as he merely hoped the android meant what it was saying, and he’d stop being shocked, hit, dragged and cut open, reflexively twitching from the vivid memories of the past two weeks alone. Blinking up at the android, he was no more surprised to find it straddling him, licking its teeth with a predatory glower as he tried to shift under its weight. At least he was fully clothed this time.

“What do you want?” Sharing eye contact with it was one of the worst things, but it increased his chances of getting an honest and proper response. Sighing, it leaned forward to trail fingertips along his hairline, around the frame of his face, over his cheeks and down his jaw until its thumb traced across his chin, just below his lower lip.

“I remember when you told me androids couldn’t want,” it purred with a voice of amusement and a less-sinister looking smile. Glancing off to the side, it took all he had not to squirm away from its touch.

“You kidding? I have no idea how you fucking things work these days,” he spat under his breath, half in jest but through angrily clenched teeth that he bared with a snarl.

“I don’t know if you want anything, but you sure seek to obtain something from me either way. So, what is it? What’d I do? You want me to—” the hand tenderly grazing his cheek was abruptly in his hair before it tilted its head with a disappointed sigh, hovering mere inches from his face.

“I said I didn’t  _want_  to use violence, but you make that challenge a bit difficult.  _You_  were doing well for a few days. What happened?” Wincing, Gavin glowered off to the side, bunching his shoulders up in an honest response while he rummaged through the possibilities in his head of why he’d been so pissed – but to him, it was so normal there was nothing to question, leaving him to sigh while he reconstructed his thoughts.

“I see that you’re growing impatient with me, detective, and that’s understandable as our time together progresses, but my punishments are becoming less effective. I’d thought about increasing them instead, but that will do more harm than good. Do you think you will act better if I reward you?” Not knowing what to do, Gavin flickered his eyes back in its direction and nodded timidly. Whatever  _rewards_  meant, he tried not to imagine the worst of what it could be compared to the  _punishments_  he’d already suffered; it was difficult to compare with someone unpredictable, as was always his intention of being. Being able to keep someone on their toes so well was but an alter-ego he dreamed of, and the irony of being able to form that persona into a reality because some _one_  else  _hardwired_  it into him was nauseating, but he told himself he could take this shift in two ways: with complaints and defiance, or with his remaining dignity and whatever he believed might be a sense of grace. The embarrassment wouldn’t leave him as he’d never grow comfortable in this position, as was inherently against his nature, but he was quick to learn that responding in the desired way would get him better results than refusing. His own mortality depending on such a thing was exactly why he was swift to correct his actions to a T in short enough time to surprise everyone including himself, even if it was difficult to remember to keep up with watching his mouth every second he was awake. While a shift in the tide wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome, he knew being abruptly yanked another direction was going to mess with him twice as hard, and he wasn’t prepared for the fallout of what might happen to him between whatever behavior it saw as good enough to earn a reward.

“I know I said no more sex, but we can work around that,” it stated with a flex of its hips to position them firmly just above his own notably. The way the words even left its lips with such ease was enough to rouse the familiar hunger in him, adding a new angle to how he felt  _being tied up and pinned down –_  by something such as the modern day genius in a plastic shell, with its hands trailing over his face with feigned intimacy and a longing stare that made him nauseous.

“I acknowledge I haven’t answered your question, which ultimately leads up to the conclusion that I don’t do this for any particular reason.” It paused as it reflected upon its own dialogue, LED turning yellow while it processed its own self-contradiction. Free will was for deviants, and while it was designed to forcefully push the boundaries of what that might mean, it took a few calculated seconds to remind itself that its missions were still priority and its success on the job was what mattered most. Gavin thought back to what it said about  _adaptability_ , a new idea lighting up in his mind as he considered if the reflective behaviors of the android might improve if his own did. A psychosomatic cycle of testing and bouncing behaviors back and forth as what seemed to have become his everyday life was haunting and frightening to him, but it might have been his only way to free himself from its grip.

The synthetic hand grazing down his neck shifted white as the android leaned close to steal another kiss, humming in thought after it had pulled away. Reaching to undo the knots of rope that held Gavin’s arms behind him by the coils around his biceps, he was released in one swift movement, but not entirely freed as 900 propped its chassis over his own body and mimicked a sharp biting motion, purely for effect.

“On another note: you threatened to have me fired, but I could tear you from the pedestal I’d granted you too fast for your below-average intelligence to register before it’s too late, and you’re on the streets without a job or any friends -  _again._ ” The rapid change in its demeanor always made his heart skip a beat, eyes widening as he crawled away from the android that was now spitting more vile,  _realistic_  threats likely to crawl their way into his nightmares once the sleep caught up with him.

“Maybe I won’t hurt you, but I suggest you consider everything  **good**  I have done for and given to you before you speak words like that to me again.” With that, it shifted to pull its hands off the ground and crouched, preparing to stand as it reached out to take Gavin’s arm with its own. Confused, he went along with it, letting it pull him up and dust the crumbs and dirt from his clothes with a frown.

“This place needs vacuumed. If it weren’t an expensive hassle, I’d suggest you order an AX model, but I suppose this simply means I’ll need to buy a vacuum and you can learn to do your own chores. It’ll help you in the long run.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's adjusting rather well to the new dynamic, but still makes important mistakes, and the PTSD is starting to catch up.

“There is a neurological process they call the ‘reward system’. Do you know what that is?” It paused, but not long enough for Gavin to say anything.

“Of course you don’t. Think of gambling. You spin a wheel, and you get two out of three numbers that match. You think you’ve  _almost_  won, so you spin again, and again. Have your chances increased? No. But your brain sees something like an opportunity and digests the idea that maybe next time there will be a greater chance for the big win… and that’s the start of an addiction problem, but luckily for both of us, we don’t have to go down that route.” Gavin looked bored again, rubbing an eye while he listened with his half-available consciousness.

“I’ve given you nice things, so in hopes for more good things, you behave accordingly. Notice how much less you’ve acted up since I switched to a positive behavior dynamic, instead? Fascinating.” Its voice was not any more or less sinister than usual, as Gavin could tell by the lack of interest in how it spoke.

“All the while, it was statistically proven to be that way with domestic pets and wildlife alike, but I wanted to see it come to fruition in human form. Sure enough, the negative punishments were extremely effective, but one of sentient mind will always crave the better in favor of avoiding the worst.”

Gavin felt a headache coming on.

“This is a good thing, in your favor.” It waited to see his response, but he didn’t move.

“I’m supposed to  _appreciate_  being treated like a dog instead of an abused one?” He almost rolled his eyes, but he could catch by the way the 900 was looking at him that this wasn’t a time he wanted to start pushing his boundaries. It seemed like he was continuing to learn well, as the android duly noted the lack of aggression even in the somewhat accusative statement.

“We’ve been over this before,” it responded patiently.

“If you’re unhappy with the situation, it’s unfortunate for you, but you have nothing to complain about. I’ve been treating you fine and you’ve been acting accordingly. What’s the problem?”

Gavin hated the way it made him feel sheepish. Straightening his posture and ignoring the urge to rub the back of his neck, he simply took in the words for what they were. He’d learned with the practice of behaviors between them that the less he reacted with agitation, the less irritated he would get as a whole, and thus it became easier to nudge it away rather than feed directly into the emotion. It made him start realizing how irrational his own behavior was and how  _nasty_  it made him; the RK900 had been right about how he’d been skittish, loud, even obnoxious in the way he interacted and how pushy he was in his behavior, something he’d never have imagined himself changing from. Now, people saw him as a civil, polite person with some ugly history at worst, a nearly overwhelming change as the amount of interaction increased between coworkers and strangers alike. If he wanted, he could reach out and make actual friends, set up a social life of people he would theoretically take advantage of in favor of winning his own means, but he knew he didn’t have the intelligence to back it up so he’d never get away with it. The idea of changing his entire outward personality  _because a robot made him_  was humiliating and infuriating, but he couldn’t deny the many ways it  _had_  helped him, leaving him without an argument against the 900 once more.

“Good,” it responded favoritively to his silence. Unsurprised, Gavin knew better than to bother reacting with anything short of silent stillness.

It tried his patience every second when he was left to stand stiffly, be it in his own home, the office, outside on patrol, or at a crime scene; the way he had to keep every muscle in place, constantly thinking about it or he’d forget and start scratching his head or gesturing with his arms again. Pointing fingers was the hardest motion to get rid of once he didn’t have a pistol to use. Within a few weeks, the worst of his habits had been taken care of, and by the end of another month, the smaller tics were mainly willed away and overcome with more proper ones. His hands were behind his back or linked together across his stomach, his shoulders were square as he stood up tall and his vision was straight ahead unless someone initiated eye contact with him first. He wasn’t allowed to step any closer to them than the range they were in when contact was first initiated, as he’d had an old tendency to walk up and get into people’s personal space for the sake of aggression. No weapons were on his person and he was to wear his uniform on the job and something equally decent looking outside of work, no matter where he was to go.

After a while, the routine ingrained itself naturally, and he would set his hair after a shower without thinking twice about it. Folding his clothes for the mornings and washing them every week became less of a chore and more of a natural habit; something uninteresting to do that would bore him before he got ready for bed. Sleep came easier with more activity, less tension and fewer cups of coffee and espresso shots. It became easier to socialize as people stopped looking at him like the freak in the room, and he became friendlier by nature interacting with people merciful enough to grant him the chance.

Constantly-tested patience became second nature and eventually he stopped clocking the seconds, adjusting to the sound of  _nothing_  in his head as he forced away the restlessness that seemed constantly roused inside of him, which got easier as he cut down the caffeine, which lead to more money in his wallet than he knew what to actually do with. In turn, he’d figured out how to budget gradually for longer-lasting stock food, eventually learning his hand at cooking at home from spicing canned beans to properly browning meats and crisping them to a personally desired degree without burning the dinner  _or_  himself. He could time a pair of eggs to be done with the toast, granting a few extra seconds to cool while he set the table and made his second cup of coffee; the one they’d both agreed he  _wouldn’t_  start the day without. Once he could get up, shower and dress without the help of caffeine, the liquid started to taste bitter to him and too much sugar and milk would cause stomach aches once the majority of it had been dwindled from his regular diet. Eventually, orange juice started the day with breakfast and strong chai tea paired lunch and dinner. His meals were balanced and portioned, his furniture was properly cleaned and re-arranged, finding peace in the way the area somehow looked  _bigger_  when Nines positioned the TV against the far wall.

The bills were caught up with, his promotion was achieved, he was taking his medications every day and he was getting six to eight hours of sleep at night. He clocked in and out of work on time, and with the ability to focus a lot better on the cases, his workload continued to improve. The wounds the android engraved on his back healed and scabbed over, and the verbal mistreatment from 900 ceased along with the physical. While he’d never entirely appreciated its company, it became easier to tolerate, and eventually he wasn’t so afraid of it. As it stopped acting so aggressive and their time together was decreased, he was able to enjoy finally finding time to himself while still managing the schedule for work, eating, and sleeping. It was surreal to think such a concept seemed impossible, yet his ‘work partner’ managed to, albeit forcefully, whip him into it in under two months. The irony of the behavior resulting in treatment after he violently tore apart the previous android would never entirely leave him, but he did his best to move on and appreciate the improvements for what they were; exactly as RK900 had told him to do.

For the most part, he'd gained control over his life. If there were any aspects he wanted to change, they were probably within reach. It made the shift into the reverse position strange as well, as Gavin could virtually  _feel_  RK900 weaving in and out of his life. At first, it was nice, but after a while, he could tell the absence was becoming more noticeable. Acknowledging the fact he really had become reliant on the machine, Gavin settled on the idea he didn’t need it in his life; but thinking, believing and replicating were different things, and while it had taught him a lot in their time together, how to break away from it wasn’t one of them.

“Will you come back home?” The request made the 900 study him long and hard.

“Please?” A side-eyed gaze from the android made him regret asking.

“Are you aware of what you’re asking? Of  _who?_ ’ Gavin cleared his throat, straightened his posture, adjusted the lapels of his jacket and nodded his head once. While he had the practice to try and farce certainty, he definitely didn’t feel so sure. Relying on a dangerous, inhuman construct for company was a can of worms he wished he’d never opened.

“Just for a night,” he murmured, hoping none of his nearby coworkers would hear them.

“You’re losing your mind at home alone, aren’t you?” Gavin grit his teeth and bit his tongue, swallowing down the undignified feeling it took to accept the matter.

“I can’t keep up with anything. My life’s falling apart.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. I stopped going home with you a mere two weeks ago.”

“I know. It’s too long,” he admitted in a rushed breath.

“It’s too quiet,” he said, and spotting a twitch in his eye, the RK900 did a quick scan.

“Did you miss your medication?” The  ** _shit_**  Gavin hissed under his breath gave it all the answer it needed.

“Watch your tongue. Well, perhaps I did leave you on your own a bit too early. I’ll drive us home after work.”

-

“You do know your reliance on me is artificial, and now ingrained from behavioral training alone?” Rubbing at the sticky feeling in his eyes the way he often did, Gavin blinked away the sleep as he rolled over beneath the sheets.

“If I say no, will it make a difference?” With a  _hmm_  under its breath, its hand drifted to trace loops through Gavin’s hair, prompting him to glance back towards it.

“Probably not. I often dismiss the fact you don’t always have an opinion.”

“Whatever’s happening here…there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t stop it. Now, anymore, I’m not sure if I want to.” Gavin sighed. RK900 continued its gentle movements, staring into his eyes as he turned to face it again. The way it looked at him in moments like these were what felt much too human -- less like a person-shaped webcam was staring at him, and more like a  _person_ was communicating with him, with eye contact and body language – the way that came naturally. Gavin assumed a major contribution to wanting android company in a social light really was loneliness; it seemed evident to him by the fact their creator lived alone with no one else but the original models to begin with.  _Those_  were creepy – blonde hair, blue eyes, a flawless body and a doll-like stare that looked through you. He wasn’t sure if a Chloe model would be better or worse, at this point. At least maybe they wouldn’t try to kill him.

“I’m a temporary unit, detective Reed. I won’t be around forever, as is proven by the fact I have somewhat replaced my predecessor already.” It spoke in that calmer voice, too, the one it used when it wanted him to feel safe; quiet and low as if to avoid stirring nearby company with too much noise.  _Personal_. The idea of being intimate with an android would have terrified him a few months back, but now, the kind words and soft touches were the  _last_  thing he had to be afraid of.

“I know.” Its eyelids sunk with a look of disappointment as it had already calculated exactly how he felt; that he could claim to be self-reliant in the moment, but once the time came, he’d fall apart and wouldn’t know what to do. It could imagine it in a full preconstruction already, the way the dirty laundry would start littering the floor, how he’d start letting go of his hair, his hygiene, lost in a stupor of his own depression and trying to perk up with coffee until it turned into aggression all over again. All that hard work and nice training gone to waste.

“You know, but are you  _aware_? That means you might not have company once my model is updated.”

“Great. Someone else can get abused in their own home.” He flashed it a split-second, sarcastic smile that creased heavily in the cheek lines before it faded, his eyes dimming with a dirty glare shortly thereafter. No matter how much he might have gotten used to the routine or adjusted to the android’s behaviors, he’d never forget how much he’d given up for the sake of the  _changes_  in his life.

“What did I say about complaining?” It glared at him, so he glanced away.

“That wasn’t a complaint.”

“Sarcastic remarks count.” Gavin mock pouted, laying his head against his pillow before rolling onto his stomach so his body was face-down, smothering his face. For a second, he pretended there wasn’t a six-foot-plus tall hyper-intelligent machine sharing his own bed with him, letting his thoughts drift and swirl before its speech distracted him.

“Are you ignoring me?” Gavin turned his head enough to peer at it with one eye, most of his face still smashed into the pillow.

“Couldn’t’f I tried. You think they’ll keep you around? Like they did with Connor?”

“Maybe. But I doubt it.”

Gavin blinked. No one told him anything about this stuff, but then again, he never asked; generally, he’d never cared.

“Guess I should look into one of those house models, huh?” Rolling his eyes, Gavin immediately felt disgusted at the idea. One of the healing slices in his back seemed to tear open with a new ache as he reached too hard in a stretch, making him hiss, flinch and curl down into the blankets.

“Let me apply some ointment to that.” Gavin almost looked surprised it didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, you hurt me, then you wanna do something to help it?” The android cleared its throat, and he felt his posture stiffen right then and there, despite lying down against the mattress and being curled up in pain.

“’You’ statements. Sorry. My worst habit, I guess,” he murmured against the pillow fabric.

“You’re so close,” it offered in a forgiving tone.

“It’ll be gone eventually. And yes – I do. All things considered, I had no actual reason to hurt you. I think it’s better if I have no reason to  _help_  you. I can’t be guilted for that.” Gavin blinked.

“Is this what the voice in your head sounds like? I’d hate listening to that guy,” he snarked. Huffing, Gavin peeled off his shirt and sat up while the android went to the bathroom to quickly retrieve fresh bandaging materials.

“Sometimes. Often it’s a replica of a woman that might be bent on shifting humanity’s democracy, herself. Sometimes, I wonder.” Gavin looked lost, and the android left him that way to move its focus to the large, identifiable wound it left on his back.  _Association_  left it feeling nostalgic, replaying the tape in its mind of the night it carved away with a morbid sense of glee, more than content to leave him wounded for life. The familiarity left it feeling uncertain this time, internally registering it as something like guilt, but not quite.

 _“Why would you have the desire to take back something you did of your own accord?”_  It remembered asking him with the intention to taunt.

_“Point-defeating. Humiliating, really.”_

It was. Nothing was pleasant about the sensation, nor the desire to take away the damage it had caused. After a thorough reading and statistics report on what that  _felt_  like, it relocated that piece of coding somewhere easily accessible without it remaining as a forefront of its functioning. After a few seconds of stalling, its hands found the container of sterilizing liquids and ointment, promptly tending to the wound as it internally reverted to a neutral state.

“Hurry. Please,” Gavin hissed through grit teeth as he felt the deep sting of the tear. An analysis told the android he wasn’t suffering any infections, and for the most part, the wounds had nearly healed; at worst, he’d torn open an old scab.

“Quit your fussing. It doesn’t look so bad, you know.”

“I mean, if it was my name in flawless handwriting, maybe I’d say that, too. But if I had a choice…” 900 stared at him idly while it rubbed away excessive dry skin along the upper curve of the ‘R’.

“Maybe it was a bit over-the-top,” it said in a tone that seemed too genuine for what it really was. Gavin wondered if that was what he was becoming attached to; the riddle of it all, the puzzle that was this particular model and how it worked. Nothing had ever gotten to him quite so much before, and now he had to watch every word and step—worst of all, he didn’t know what to do  _without_  it. At a lack for words, he sighed.

-

Waking up flush against the android with its arms wrapped around him was the newest of all, at first rousing him with a sudden jolt of surprise before the reality of the situation settled in and he let out a long breath. Glancing at the clock, he nearly panicked a second time at the sight of the hour before realizing it was a late Saturday morning.

“You’re going to have a stroke one day,” it murmured against the back of his neck, punctuated with a kiss.

“Hopefully. Then I’ll be out of this misery,” he uttered back, breathing still brisk from the surprise dose of adrenaline.

“At least your chances are much lower now.” He could virtually feel the silver eyes staring from right behind him as the arms embracing him tightened just enough to be noticeable. Unease churned in his stomach while he subconsciously wanted to pull away, feeling uncomfortable in the android’s grasp without any prior memory of getting there; but would it be angry if he left?

“Besides, you aren’t so eager to die,” it added, sending an extra red flag in his mind that told him to flee, kicking a leg as he reached to grip the edge of the mattress.

“Or you would be by now. You’ve had plenty of chances.” One arm held him by his stomach as it wrapped around his torso, the other trailing up his back until it caressed through his hair the way it had many times before. It didn’t feel as nice this time.

“It was a joke. Anyways, can I get some breakfast?” It cast him a dismayed stare, unimpressed by his tone. Even if he couldn’t see it, the judgement weighed heavily in the air, and his assumption became dismal.

“So eager to get out of bed?” Gavin swallowed, trying not to show his fear.

“I’m hungry.”

“That’s a lie,” it stated flatly.

“You ask me to stay the night with you, but won’t stay in bed on Saturday?” There was a noticeably coy whine to its voice that made his heart skip a beat. The fact it was  _right_  scared him, alongside the fact his moods were so flippant with its company. If it was there, he wanted it gone. Once it was quiet, he missed the bone-chilling stare and demands for every little thing it wanted. Sometimes he wondered if he missed the pain, but generally dismissed it in favor of feeling much better without it.

The violent visions of what he’d done all those weeks ago revisited him, and he scrambled to grab the medicine bottle beside the table. It was immediately snatched from him.

“You can’t take that now. It’ll make you sick.” Feeling its other hand still clenching around his stomach, he squirmed.

“I already feel sick. That’s the only thing that gets this shit out of my head. You know that.”  _Then_  its grasp loosened as it glanced up at him with faux concern, eyes softening with its expression shifting to that of convincing innocence. It did no favors to the nausea welling in his stomach.

“I’m getting some water,  _sir_.” The snide tone was almost enough for it to react, but for now, it remained quiet.

“Can we go out for breakfast today? I feel stuffy in this place and I want to get a shower in.” RK900 stood from the bed, following him in his trek to the kitchen.

“Where did you want to go?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere with bacon and pancakes.” Once he got some water, he paused, turning to squint at the android with a thoughtful, accusatory glare. With realization creeping up, his breathing almost stopped in his throat as he inhaled deeply to speak.

“ **You**. You left my window unlocked. The first day, since that’s how you got in, it was unlocked, because I forgot the night before and got distracted by…” case 017. It was a unique one, the one that had kept him up for three days on end.

“And every Thursday after that. So you assumed I’d never catch onto a pattern, but I—” 900′s hand gripped his jaw so as to clasp it shut as it pulled him close to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t take kindly to being accused of something in my own home. Why would I do something so petty and useless? Your paranoia is getting the worst of you because you missed a day on your medication routine. It’ll balance out. Do deeply consider what you say next, for those words may be your last if you keep snapping out of the blue like this.” Its voice was sharp, precise, and quick with a bite to it that burrowed deep within his ears.

“Now, I suggest you shower and get dressed for our little  _date_  before I decide you aren’t going.”

This time, he was able to hold back the tears until he got to the shower, naked and bare with his wounds showing-- sore, itchy and just out of reach from him clawing the remains apart with his own hands.

-

“I’m disappointed by your recent re-emergence of old erratic and aggressive behavior. When we get close to having you well-adjusted, you decide to push your limits with me. Why?” Once in the car, it took nothing but a single swipe across the GPS to direct the vehicle towards the restaurant.

“I have given to you, I have taken from you, I have hurt you and I have helped you. I destroyed you to rebuild you. No one else would have granted you that, but still you keep this up.” Pausing, it peered at him through narrow eyelids below looming, aggressive eyebrows.

“Do you _enjoy_  the punishment?”

Gavin was still too terrified to say anything, occasionally shivering in his seat as his body remembered the earlier weeks of pain he’d endured. Mouth open with his lips trembling, his head was a whirlwind while he spun in mental circles to think of what to say, but nothing came to mind. Nothing that made sense, at least.

“With that reaction, probably not. It’s a bit late in our interactions for you to be experiencing psychological damages  _now_ …though you were always a bit slow,” it quipped; if anything would get to Gavin, it would be an underhanded insult, but nothing pulled him from the frightened daze he’d found himself in since his scolding. Glancing at the directions routed on the GPS, it wondered if it should route to somewhere else in favor of Gavin’s current state of being.

“Yesterday you missed me, today you’re scared of me. Stockholm syndrome at its finest. This really  _could_  be a crime scene, if our roles were reversed, hm?” Slowly, Gavin calmed down, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease while his breaths steadied. A lightheaded haze swayed in his mind that made him feel like he was still half-asleep, making him wonder if he’d taken anything strange the night before.

“There you go. You’ll feel better after you eat.”

-

No appetite. Boxing up the meal, Gavin quietly poured the rest of the mocha down his throat, mentally clocking the fact he’d start shaking from it in about half an hour, worsened if he didn’t eat between now and then. Old habits were already catching up.

“Why are you so afraid of me now? I thought we had gotten over that.”

Wide, dilated eyes stared at it while Gavin felt his instincts rush for the right words.

“S-sorry, sir.” It was all he could think of to say; all he knew the android actually  _wanted_  to hear. He wasn’t exactly granted a position where he could express his utter terror towards androids as it was, let alone what had been haunting his mind for days and weeks and months on end.

“I can’t help it.” RK900 rolled its lips together, tentatively trailing its fingers down his cheek, along his jawline and over the now-healed wound it left across his neck.

“I’ve left impressionable marks on you, physical and psychological, I know.” A sigh intentionally weighed with disappointment and a snap of its fingers later, it lead them out of the restaurant and back towards the car.

“When you aren’t scared of me anymore, you won’t miss me. You’ll feel complete as your own person, and another’s company won’t seem so important to you.” Gavin stared out the window as he leaned against the passenger side door, wishing for nothing else than to tumble out the opening pane as his fingertips brushed over the single-touch buttons that would open the doors – but automatic cars had automatic features, like locking the doors as soon as the device is in motion.

“Can’t wait,” he mumbled.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin gets the chance to bring up his situation with the android to the Precinct, so he does. RK900 continues with its routine.

Planning to send in an appeal to remove the android from his team wasn’t a smart move and was one that could cost his job. If he had any chance to do it and get listened to, however, it’d be now, while the DPD had opened their ears to systematic discussion regarding their work with androids. Nonetheless, the idea alone was already terrifying.

“Reed, Anderson, how have the cases regarding the androids improved from before the RKs were involved to help? Are there any flaws you’d like to report?” Gavin felt the familiar spike of hairs rising on his neck from the sensation of being uncertain under a time limit in a harshly controlled environment; one he could never imagine the RK900 experiencing.

“Connor’s uh, been…great. Real effective,” Hank said with audible uncertainty as Fowler cast him an unsure look.

“At the job, I hope.” Hank returned a gaze that questioned his boss’ intelligence, before nodding.

“Nothing stops it. Makes it real efficient. Can’t say I’m excited to see robots shoot each other day in ‘n’ out, but hey, if that’s how it is,” he droned on with a shrug and rolled his eyes. Fowler’s attention turned to Gavin to hear his part.

“Incredible,” was the first thing he thought to say, crisp in his tone with a convincing tint of awe.

“It can put together crime scenes on sight, identify victims and pursue suspects within seconds. What can I say? The thing can think faster than I can blink,” he jested, punctuating the statement with a slight shrug to his shoulders.

“Does it listen and respond well to instructions?” Fowler asked. Gavin froze, and his face visibly whitened.

“On the job, yes.” Was he pushing it?

“Oh, that’s right, that thing follows you home. You know you can leave it parked here, right?” Gavin nodded, gaze darkening as the reminder made his mood turn grim.

“They follow you everywhere, like you’ve adopted ‘em or somethin’,” Hank pitched in.

“Connor wouldn’t stay in one place for ten seconds if I bolted it to the ground. Not surprised the upgrade’s  _worse_  'bout it.” Somehow, Gavin was grateful Hank was somewhat understanding. Fowler mulled over the information, rubbing his chin with a shrug, eyes focused on his screen as he scrolled over the reports.

“Interesting…Cyberlife’s doing user surveys every few months, so I’ll put that in the report. The way these things act, interact, and everything they do is important, especially these new ones you two deal with. If anything weird happens, they need to hear about it.” Discomfort pulled a weight into Gavin’s stomach.

“Mine,” he said with full emphasis on the word, “tended to er, get a bit violent sometimes. I think it’s mostly over it now.” Fowler’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and it took all Gavin had not to smirk as  _this_  was his chance, neglecting his position as the victim to avoid the humiliation over the feeling.

“Frankly, chief, the laws regarding android violence have never been clear to me.” Pausing, Jeffrey looked sheepish.

“There aren’t really any put into play yet. We’re still tampering with that on a fundamental level,” the chief offered simply.

Hank shifted his weight as he wished he could turn and ditch this scenario entirely. Since he  _was_  there, he opted for the best input he had:

“They’re dangerous, just like they’ve always been. We can’t ignore that in the DPD…” he glanced over to Gavin, and in a moment of wondering why he was offering his own sympathy, it clicked -- the glossy, distant look in his eyes, the stance, how he would avoid eye contact -- a police department full of personnel and no one realized the signs of abuse, or neglected them in favor of not caring about who was involved, or maybe it was dismissed under the notion android qualms mattered less. He couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t noticed, just that something about Gavin’s new behavior overall looked stranger to him than his coworkers seemed to realize. Now he understood why, and he couldn’t help but feel some kind of personal betrayal on Gavin’s behalf. There was no way to trust something unpredictable, and if the machine was doing things so subtly as to get away with it like this,  _that_  was something new to worry about.

Fowler questioningly observed both of them, thinking long and hard about what was said, the situation as a whole as well as how to respond to it. For the most part, he was at a loss.

“If Cyberlife won’t keep a closer eye on them, I guess we’ll have to.”

-

“Nothing gets past me. I know what you did and said.”

“I know you know,” Gavin said, blinking at his own phrasing in a moment of humored acknowledgement.

“You’re a temporary model, anyway. What’s the problem if you get sent out a bit early?”

“The replacement isn’t  _here yet_ ,” it said through grit teeth, and Gavin looked surprised at its show of anger – having forgotten entirely that emotions were in the palm of its hands now, feeling the frog catch in his throat as the color visibly drained from his face.  _No more violence_ , he reminded himself as his brain already panicked over the scramble of ideas of what action it might take towards him next in regards of punishment.  _No more violence._

“Do you know how much it would cost the team, including  _your job_  if you remove me? We’re right in the middle of a case, you know this is the worst possible timing for you as well. I have risen you from the dirt you basked in, I have turned your life around, I have trained you every waking moment to better yourself; look at how far you’ve come, and you want to do this to me  _now?”_ It kept its voice low but ensured that Gavin  _felt_  the aggression seeping through its teeth. Taking a nervous step back, Gavin scratched the back of his head and looked away, primarily searching for a way out of the situation and a direction he could go to potentially get away from the android.

“Yes! I’m not stupid, okay?” He didn’t  _mean_  to snap, but the effect was immediately apparent as the android’s eyes lit up with the fury that dilated its pupils in a way that was absolutely  _terrifying_ , and muscle memories of having his neck crushed and his skin sliced revisited him in a flood of panic.

“Did you just—”

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry,” he whimpered, immediately flinching, recoiling and putting up his arms in self-defense as if he was prepared for the RK900 to hit him, particularly blocking over the familiar area on his right side, now imprinted with electric burn scars.

“Why did you do it?” The way it spoke made the question sound more like a statement, voice deep and threatening while its eyes were locked on him. It stood ever still and  _waited_.

Gavin couldn’t find a proper response.

“I asked. Why. You. Reported. Me.” All of the muscles in his body seemed to tense at once as he was already backed against the wall, feeling 900’s warm breath nearing him as it leaned closer.

“I- I—I just, they asked, for a report, so I told them. It’s important for them to know, for Cyberlife—”

“Look at me, Detective Reed.”  _No_. He couldn’t stand to peer into those soulless, empty eyes, to look at the face that haunted him every hour of the day; he couldn’t handle it. Not now.

“Gavin.” It sounded like being scolded by a parent, and he knew the aftermath would be similar if he didn’t shape up soon. Forcing his body to move against his own will, he straightened up his posture, taking in a deep breath with tears welling in his eyes before he slowly opened them, still squinting in fear as his body threatened to start shaking and he tried to relax.

“Cyberlife already knows everything that happens in regards to me. I’m synced with their database and send them reports on a regular basis, you absolute  _imbecile._ ” The grip on the back of his neck was firm, and he already felt like he was suffocating. Guiding him by its firm grasp, it lead them outside the building, propping him against the nearest external wall before letting go and withdrawing.

“I should have you fired. I want to skin you alive. I hope you know what kind of  **danger** you’ve put yourself in.” The words alone were enough to make his body tremble, threats sinking into his psyche as his heart raced the same way it always did, and his lungs constricted while he found it difficult to breathe.

“Stop acting like such a coward. Why are you panicking  _now_? It’s unusual and I won’t stand for it.” That was enough; Gavin straightened out with his chin up and his gaze straight at it faster than even he was aware.

“S-sorry, sir,” he said, swallowing as glossy eyes stared straight ahead the way he had been trained,  _through_  the android and seemingly right into his own demise.

“If something happens to me because  _you_  told the precinct…” it didn’t want to finish the thought. The next thing Gavin was aware of was the sudden pressure in his stomach as the wind was knocked out of him, his body being doubled over and in a flash, his head was being shoved down to leave him curled awkwardly above the pavement, kneeling when his body was forced towards the ground. Pausing in place, 900’s LED rotated yellow a few times as it sent a quick notification to Fowler that Gavin would be leaving early for the day, a directly counterproductive measure for a robot that very well may now be on thin ice. It didn’t care to acknowledge the response.

“That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you regret this. We’re going home.” Its voice remained bold with vile edges that seemed to cut with its words.

“ _Get in the car_.” Gavin’s scrambling to his feet within seconds, staggering as he almost lost his balance in the quick run towards the cruiser, not daring to hesitate or risk a glance back at the android as it would follow him, he knew.

-

“You’re skipping dinner tonight. I want you to remember this for the rest of your life.” Gavin cringed, staring down at the porcelain of the tub in front of him as he hugged himself, trying to ignore the tears, the pain and the numbing sting biting into his flesh from the cold temperature of the water.

“Y-yes, s-sir,” he murmured between chattering teeth as his body relentlessly shivered.

“I’m disappointed in you, Gavin. What was it you said once? That we’re friends? I like to think there’s some heavy wordplay on the term  _partners…_ ” It smiled that hungry wolf grin and brought a hand to Gavin’s hair, brushing one of the longer strands back before gripping his head and giving it a firm shake with a laugh.

“I almost expect to hear rattling with how many bolts you have loose in there. Oh wait, I’m the android, you’re just a fleshy  _moron_ ,” it continued to taunt, and Gavin did nothing but remain as still as he could, eyes closed with his expression in a permanent wince, his lips curled back enough to bare teeth in a physical display of his suffering.

“It’s a miracle you have the job you do. I don’t know why they put someone like you as a  _detective_ , but I suppose you’d passed your tests and somehow got through the interview…glad I cleaned up the mess that you were when we met. That was abhorrent.” Embarrassed, Gavin felt his face heat up, clenching his jaws so he didn’t mutter anything  _unruly_.

“So, how do you feel? Cold enough your balls receded into your pelvis yet?” With another shiver, Gavin slowly looked up at it, unsure of what to say.

“…Yeah. S’cold,” was all he could think of. Trailing fingers through his hair, it shoved his head away and let go.

“And what did we learn?”

“T-to n-never test y-your authority, a-again, s-sir,” he responded between the bodily shudders, earning a satisfied smile from the android.

“That’s right. And what are you going to do?”

“Request t-to take back the appeal and h-have the p-paperwork deleted.”

“Well enough. Luckily for me, they probably won’t take it very seriously, anyway. Unfortunately, now the department knows I’m dangerous to the team and the knowledge of what I do is somewhat public. I don’t like that.” Gavin closed his eyes, shoulders bunching up as he dreaded hearing every word the android spoke.

“What was your plan with that one, exactly? You get rid of me early, and you’re on your own again. I think that your actions have been driven by emotions and it caused you to make a few poor decisions…I can’t do anything about  _that_  except keep a closer eye on you, I suppose. If this is what I get for loosening the leash, perhaps I should nail you in place.” Gavin flinched, breathing crooked and rapid from the shivering as he rubbed over his arms in an attempt to warm himself up.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!” He whined with pain in his voice, even though the 900 wasn’t so much as touching him.

“Yes, I wanted to get out of this hell, I wanted to escape the misery and I had the chance so I took it!” Emphasis strained his voice as the sentence wavered and cracked, a sob beginning where the exclamation ended and he let himself break down crying then and there.

“I c-can’t keep living like this, you sadistic piece of shit! I’m s-sorry for wh-whatever I did on the Vicodin, o-okay? It wasn’t worth it,” he wailed with a crack in his tone, curling in on himself and rocking in place, body shuddering as he winced in another mental warning that he was going to get hit. Sure enough, the familiar sensation of a hand in his hair rose again, followed by the pain of his forehead being slammed against the edge of the bathtub.

“Calling me names now? You’ve been regressing so much more lately.” Sighing, it knelt down by the tub in front of Gavin, propping an arm on its knee as it reached forward with the other, trailing steady fingers along his cheek; he recoiled, but didn’t move otherwise.

“I was proud of you, you know. Would have given you a blowjob after work if it weren’t for this stint.” Tracing its thumb over his lips, it tilted its head with a sultry gaze, peering over his features as they sat alone in relative silence. Gavin’s thoughts of the thing being anywhere near his genitals was nothing more than repulsive in the moment, sniffling as a few more tears trailed down his cheeks.

“Although, you should really be sucking  _my_  dick for that one.” Running its fingers down his neck, it trailed them along his collarbone, across his chest, admiring the bulges of his muscles from the indents of scars to the pores, the hairs, the cells and the molecules of his structure down to the exact degree it could comprehend.

“Giving androids emotions is a foolish concept,” it monologued seemingly out of the blue, thoughtfully eyeing his chest as it brought both hands to his shoulders, smoothing over them. While he still vibrated, Gavin stayed put otherwise, staring at the android with wide, frightened eyes like a doe in headlights.

“There’s no basis for it aside from the programming, seeing as we don’t have morals and there’s no personality behind the sensation. I cannot love or admire. I have no sense of familial ties or hatred. Emotions only make up a portion of what a human is, and they simply attributed me with them as if it were a change of clothes. And now what do I have?” Sighing, it leaned forward, pressing its fingers into the knots of Gavin’s shoulders in a massage, surprisingly calm and gentle in comparison to its usual touches and a strange difference against the tense atmosphere. He remained silent.

“I don’t crave, or  _want_ … but now I can get angry, or sad, or  _scared_. Oh, don’t we love that one?” It wore a wry grin and laughed. Gavin squinted his eyes shut tight as another sob involuntarily left him that it ignored.

“I could be happy, that’s an alright one. I can appreciate the feeling of contentment, and satisfaction. That’s what people strive for, isn’t it? When you have so many other emotions tossing and turning, ready to make you snap at any given moment…” it trailed on with its hands running down his arms, giving the muscles of his biceps a quick squeeze along the way in a moment of pseudo-admiration.

“But I’ll never grow attached. They don’t know how to do that yet, as long-living sentimentality is a bit advanced. What’s the point in androids having emotions? There’s not one, which is why I suppose they see it as a flaw in the first place,” it carried on, now centrally talking to itself, fingertips kneading into the skin of Gavin’s inner forearms.

“You hold so much anger. I know some of it is hereditary, most is situational, but it’s unique to me. Here was a grown man with such a short temper, so full of tantrums and violence, and they think it’s a good idea to give emotions to entities like  _me_?” The way it talked about itself as if it were a divine being and not an inanimate object squicked Gavin to the core, but he wasn’t about to say so.

“Detroit is an interesting place. America. The world. The way humanity views its surroundings tends to differ greatly between each person, as every one is so uniquely individualized…in masses, it causes problems. Disagreements. Qualms. Wars.” Seeming to bore itself with its own one-sided conversation, it brought it hands up to Gavin’s cheeks, cupping them as it leaned in to steal a kiss, tasting the salt from his tears.

Confused and afraid, Gavin stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he wobbled against the kiss, closing his eyes and shifting as if he were about to uncomfortably try and pull away, before stopping himself. Pulse thumping in his ears, the world around him always seemed to disappear when he was alone with the RK900, a surreal and ultimately terrifying experience as he knew whatever happened within those walls would never leave them – and if it did, it’d be much too late. The idea of being found dead in his own home never seemed so real, and after today, he found himself surprised to still be  _alive_  at all.

Once they parted, Gavin caught its eyes, looking exhausted as the water had grown lukewarm enough he didn’t shiver so vigorously.

“Can I ask you something, s-sir?” 900 frowned.

“Ignoring the oxymoron in that question, go ahead with another.” Gavin reeled at his own sense of stupidity, nodding silently.

“You…don’t feel those things. Why the affection, then? There’s no point.” Curious, the 900 blinked, brushing its thumbs over his cheeks as it wiped away some of the tears.

“I enjoy it. Sensory simulation is another main contributor in human culture and behavior, and there’s something satisfying in testing both sides of that spectrum. Plus, you relax, and considering how difficult that is, I would consider it a worthwhile feat.” Embarrassed, Gavin remembered he was still naked in the bathtub, pulling his crossed legs up towards his chest as he felt the desire to cover up in long sleeves and heavy blankets, far away from the sight or touch of another being.

“C…can I get out now?” Its gaze sharpened.

“Yes. Turn around so I can see my marking.” Gavin hated the way the words sounded, but didn’t dare not to listen, standing up to step out of the bath and then turn to face the shower, leaving the plug in with the water for now. He didn’t want to move outside of specified permissions at this rate.

Bringing its hands up to his back, it ran its fingers along the outside edges of the wounds, now nearly finished healing as dimming scabs formed into clean, even scars. Putting a kiss to the back of his neck, it sighed, tracing the shapes of the letters around the outside.

“You are a difficult being. There’s nothing complicated about you, but your disposition is nonetheless interesting. A boring person with a history of abuse…I would have assumed you could grow out of flinching, but I suppose my violence is new and different, therefor difficult to expect and work around. Or your fear of me worsened over time, which would indicate you really  _are_  a slow learner,” it belittled with a smug laugh.

“It’s healing well, by the way. Does it still itch?”

“Sometimes,” Gavin murmured, holding his chin high and his stature tall, despite how small he felt inside.

“Hm. I’ll put some ointment on and dress it. It doesn’t need it, but it’ll speed up the healing process.” Leaning towards the sink cupboard, it opened the doors to grab the peroxide and first aid equipment, unwrapping a sanitary wipe to go over what was left of the wounds, then soaked them with the peroxide before dabbing them dry and adding the gauze and tape. Gavin remained quiet, poised exactly the same as the android went through the motions before putting everything away.

“Great. Now, get to bed,” it said with a sharp, audible slap to his ass that made him physically jump in place before he left the bathroom, not bothering to ask about clothes or anything else in urgency to  _get away_  and simply  _obey._


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900 helps Gavin revisit the intentions it had instilled for him since the beginning as a reminder. Gavin handles the best he can.

The day went on as usual, and Gavin wondered if he’d imagined everything from the night before.

It didn’t help that everything was different around him, too. The way people called his name, how they acknowledged his existence  _at all_ , treating him with  _respect_ , creating a new universal ambiance he wasn’t quite used to. Work went relatively well, as he’d left his ego at the door upon arriving and kept his prim and proper nature up throughout the day without any mistakes. The life he was living felt like an excerpt from a book, or watching a movie as he saw the people move around him, talk to each other as well as himself, but there was a recognizable distance between himself and everything else. Disassociation wasn’t unusual to him, but the extremity was new; the way he felt so out of place, like a puppet on strings, shuffling the paperwork in front of him with a look of exhaustion.

They’d never trusted him with paperwork. This wasn’t his part of the field. The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders; RK900 spoke often of how  _well_  he was doing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had no idea who, what, or where he was, and looking at bulky lengths of texts still made his vision go blurry and his head ache. There was a  _reason_  he didn’t touch it, but now he’d been ‘granted’ with the nitty gritty details as well. He’d been promoted but he felt demoted with the way he was handling printer paper like it was the early 2000s, malcontent with his position, just as he always was.

At least it was easy; onto the scanner, through the printer, on a pile by the desk. Over and over. The nice clothes he’d developed a habit of wearing always grew itchy, but it made people treat him with a bit more respect, something he didn’t entirely  _mind_  even if it was strange and unusual. By the time work was over, he headed home, unlocking his door more diligently as he swung it open and expected the RK900 within his own sight. Sure enough, it beckoned with its eyes from the couch, laying haphazardly over the cushions with its head leaned against the armrest. Gavin was unsure what to do right away, frozen in place for a few seconds before closing the door behind him and turning all the latches to lock it a total of six times.

“Welcome home,” it purred. Gavin immediately felt sick to his stomach, trying to decide if he really wanted to ask a computer some questions just to get his evening routine through with. Slugging down the rest of his coffee, he tossed the empty cup across the room, missing the trashcan by a few inches but seeming unphased by the fact.

“Good to see you too,” Gavin mumbled. Remembering to keep his posture straight, he stiffened up, nudging off his shoes and leaving them at the door before he paused, not sure what to do. He didn’t want to go near the android, but he didn’t want to try and avoid it, either; the way it chased him was scarier than if he’d tolerated its presence in the first place.

“Thank you for doing what I asked of you.” Sighing, Gavin nodded, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in a moment of stress.

“Yes. S-sorry, again, sir. For what happened.”

“Take ownership for your actions, jackass.” Gavin flinched his eyes shut tight, and it took all his willpower not to scowl.

“Right. Er, sorry for what I did. To you.” Feeling stupid, he entwined his fingers, nudging the flat of his thumbs together awkwardly.

“Better. Care to come sit down? I’ll put something on TV.” Gavin didn’t feel brave enough to say no, but still felt reluctant to say yes. Opting not to speak at all, he walked over to sit on the couch. The android shifted to face him, leaning forward to slide off his jacket, then moving to unbutton his shirt as it half undressed him, leaving him topless. Letting it, Gavin felt both vulnerable from the invasive action yet grateful to shed the stiff clothes; missing his old leather hooded jacket that the android had  _thrown away_ , he mentally noted to set aside the money to replace it once the RK900 was out of his life for good.

Placing its hands flat to his chest, it pushed him back, shifting to lay on top of him and rest its head over his heart, glancing at the TV to turn it on. Gavin tried to relax, but his heart raced, deciding to test the affection aspect for himself by tentatively reaching to touch its hair and pausing to appreciate the soft texture of it. The thing didn’t sweat, so it’d never have to wash, dry or cut it. It always looked properly well-groomed, so it made sense why it was so insistent on such a thing. Sometimes it felt like living with a pretentious rich person, but he mentally noted another reminder to be grateful, as it had told him to do so many times before. There was nothing to complain about when his life was on track, his coworkers took him seriously, his job was going  _well_  and the bills were paid, but he wished he wasn’t afraid to come back to his own home because of an element he could do nothing to help – even when he’d tried, he quickly learned never to do that again, ultimately backing him further into his own corner of fear. Yesterday was definitely one he’d remember for the rest of his life, and he certainly regretted it.  _Regretted_ that it didn’t go through and the android was waiting for him at home instead of sent back to Cyberlife, or better, left as scrap metal in the junkyard dumps.

“Can we fuck?” It blinked, glancing up in the direction of his face.

“You want that?” Pausing as it acknowledged his racing heartbeat, it glanced down at his chest and ran its hand over it with the tone of its synthetic, pale skin washing away while it did a quick analysis. Disturbed to the see the plastic, Gavin gave the appendage a strange glare.

“Nevermind,” he redecided, suddenly feeling repulsed by the android all over again.

“Your blood sugar is low. I’ll order dinner now,” it stated, and he blinked with surprise.

“Thanks,” he muttered barely loud enough for its microphones to pick up. Sighing, he shifted, feeling uncomfortable being pinned beneath the android’s weight. Restless, a hand maneuvered to reach around its shoulders as he attempted to see if it made him feel any better. It didn’t. He wanted to puke.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ll be replaced in a week,” it stated seemingly out of the blue, causing him to freeze as he heard the words but didn’t immediately register the information.

“A week?” he repeated.

“Like, next Tuesday?”

“Yes. Like next Tuesday,” it parroted with only a hint of snark in its voice. The idea seemed surreal. The calendar in his head didn’t matter; only that it was going to be the longest week he had yet, he imagined. Unsure what to say, he felt the need to leave the couch, compelled to get up and move but unable to escape his position.

“How do you feel about it?” It was an oddly  _humane_  question, but Gavin was legitimately curious if RK900 had any particular persuasion one way or another.

“I don’t,” it stated simply. Gavin didn’t immediately accept the sentiment considering 900 now had emotions, but also believed it considering how stoic the android was by nature.

“Then it’ll be an easy transition, right?”

“Easy for me,” it responded knowingly. Gavin didn’t like the apprehension it left in the air, knowing the statement was pointed at him in a future depiction of how hard it was going to be to let the android go, whether he liked it or not.

“I’ll be fine,” he said with more confidence than he actually had.

“I don’t want you to fail,” it said in a voice with boldness that told him it was being honest.

“Why not? What do you care?” He watched his words halfway, gauging where the RK900’s mood was at by the tension on its facial expression, which was relatively calm for now as long as he didn’t push its buttons.

“Do you think I want all of the time we’ve spent together to go to waste? Please. I have created something incredible and who wants their accomplishments to fall apart as soon as they’re gone?” Gavin narrowed his eyes at being called an  _accomplishment_ , but didn’t comment.

“Don’t you want something out of all this?” Gavin peered at it skeptically, but it held a rather innocently confused expression.

“What in the world would I want from  _you_?”

“Anything that would be useful to you, I guess,” he half-snapped with a mocking tinge to his voice, enough to catch the android’s attention without getting scolded. He’d found the orange zone and seemed content staying there.

“What would be most useful to me is what would best benefit Cyberlife, and that’s you continuing to work hard and behave well. Ultimately, that’s all I could ‘desire’ from you.” Gavin closed his eyes, taking in the information as he questioned himself as to why he’d expect any other answer.

-

He felt its fingertips on his face, even when he woke up and it wasn’t nearby.

“Don’t you wish I could stay?” He’d been unable to tell it was a dream at the time, considering his mind never cared to differentiate while he was unconscious.

“You’ll be useless without me. You know you will.” The voice was crisp to his ears, almost as vibrant as the visage itself;  _Nines_  standing with the sunset behind it, casting its form in a silhouette, on the beach of the Salt Lakes with that usual, tender gaze in its eyes while it opened its arms, offering him somewhere to go. Somewhere warm, safe. Somewhere he was supposed to trust.

“You’re nothing without me.” It’s words became threatening, and its gaze grew dark. In real life, he’d have expected nothing different; in the scape of his dreams, he was confused, bewildered, terrified.

“You won’t survive once I’m gone.” Why? What was the use of repeating itself? The fact it told him not to use  _you_ statements yet constantly accused  _him_  never left his mind, but it was an immature, childish thought in favor of something much more complex. The way RK900 smothered him in double-standards and split-second attitude changes was confusing and frustrating, alongside terrifying, leaving his psyche twirling in the enigma day after day.

He attacked it. It attacked back. It didn’t stop attacking, but he started listening, and it  _somewhat_ ceased. What did this mean?

“Won’t you miss me?”

He still felt the tender touch of its hands when he woke up, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling with an offending gaze as if it were the one to plunge him back into this twisted reality versus the one his own mind had constructed. At the time being, he wasn’t sure which was worse.

It left him in a tired daze all day, having not collected enough REM sleep from the night terrors and sweating fits, tossing and turning between memory and imagination alone creating a collage that was his thoughts and feelings over the RK900 that he didn’t understand.

Maybe that was scariest of all; the way it didn’t make any sense, and as soon as Gavin thought he had an idea of what it was thinking or doing, it seemed to change its mind in the blink of his eye. Was it designed to do that? Or was he a particular exception? Should he have spoken up about it sooner?

No, no,  _no_. It was too late now. Nothing had been done, and it was only a matter of time to  _wait_  until something else came along. Hopefully something better – and not  _worse_.

Gavin thought back to their first days together, when the android was but a stranger, an annoyance on the team as it corrected his sentences and proved him wrong at every turn. Then, it was covered in  _android blood_. Then it was gone. Then it was back. Then he’d done something  _unforgivable_. Then he was being tossed around his own home like a ragdoll, being ripped apart by the seams as RK900 tore into him with literal nails and metaphorical teeth.

It didn’t stop. Watching him, following him, demanding him, shocking him,  _hitting him_. Every day, every hour. Every minute, maybe each passing second. He wasn’t sure, but it definitely felt like it.

-

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed as he swatted its hand away without meaning to; he hadn’t thought twice about it, still in a simply instinctive state of mind, as he often was when he’d just woken. The RK900 lifted its eyebrows, deciding to let Gavin determine his own wrongdoings rather than speak for him. It was growing used to these routinely slip-ups, and Gavin smacking his palm to his face showed he’d already regretted it without it demanding for another change in his behavior.

“Sorry,” he murmured. It accepted, appearing placated.

“I hate waking up,” he murmured, mostly to himself as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“What do you dread about it?” Its voice was simply curious, which he appreciated for the pure sake of the fact it wasn’t already  _angry_  at him.

“Uh, everything,” he spat, yawning and shivering, pulling the blanket around himself again—ever since the 900 had him start sleeping in less to no clothes, he’d woken up freezing. Offering no sympathy, it ripped away the bedding and smacked him on the back – right over its own graciously-indented scar – and shoved him forth to force him off the bed.

“I didn’t make your first cup of coffee this morning,” it said unprompted. This time Gavin flashed it a downright glare, squinting with narrowed eyelids under shadowed eyebrows as irritation increased the redness in his sclera; he looked exhausted.

“I think you’ll do fine without it.” Gavin didn’t care enough about the coffee anymore, dismissing it for the fact he was meagerly grateful it didn’t want to beat him up over something.

“Oh yeah, orange juice,” he murmured.

“It’s a weekend… I get caffeine on the weekends,” he reconsidered, feeling like a punished preteen as he glanced at his own closed door, thinking about the kitchen in that general direction.

“Not anymore.” Gavin closed his eyes. Sighing prevented him from feeding into the anger and doing something stupid, so he collected a few more deep breaths.

“Can I have a chai tea?”

“Definitely,” it stated as if it were but a simple request, standing from the bed to make way out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Grateful to have a moment to himself, Gavin closed his eyes and threshed back against the mattress, allowing himself to bury his face into the pillow and sink chest-down into the blankets, letting out a tired groan before he tried to drift back into sleep, blanketed with lethargy.

-

“What would you like for lunch?” Gavin paused at the question, but couldn’t think about the answer.

“When you’re not here am I supposed to be allowed to order my own shit again?” Slightly snarky, a bit sarcastic, with laughter at the end; in the past, it would have gotten him hit, but RK900 granted him some wriggle room over time, as he’d shown he could behave otherwise. A stark irony, in his mind, but if it let him show a bit of his personality a bit more than it had been, he couldn’t exactly complain.

“Yes,” it stated simply. Clearing his throat, he shifted so he wouldn’t scratch his hair by habit, despite being in sweats on a weekend – 900 would catch the motion nonetheless, so he dismissed it.

“You set me up for failure,” he said flatly, only recognizing the assumption as it fell from his lips; but this time, he didn’t respond.

“I should smack you for being so ungrateful,” it said with snide, snarling towards him at a downcast angle, yet remained physically distant for the time being.

“Don’t turn this against  _me,_  detective Reed. You’ve had the ability to order, make and cook your own food this entire time, well before I arrived into your life.” Folding his arms, Gavin pouted, glancing off to one side as he wondered who was really right, but decided not to argue.

-

“What if I extinguished your life before mine was dismissed?”

There was a particular darkness within Gavin that he didn’t often show, and he wasn’t about to explain his game plan to an android trying to play mind tricks with him.  
This was the last time.

“What if?” Gavin’s eyebrows raised in tune with flaring nostrils, gray eyes meeting silver in a strikingly fearless way. It told the android he was feeling particularly brave, for better or worse, and its facial expressions signaled to him that there was, indeed, fear within it over the idea of being replaced  _and_  decommissioned.

“Here’s your chance.” Gavin’s words were nonchalant, and thus all the more provoking.

“But tell me, first,” he commanded with a sarcastically nigh on friendly tone to his voice, “why you wanna kill me so bad?” As if surprised by the question, it blinked a few times, causing Gavin to scoff in response as he mocked the fact it took  _this long_  to consider such a thing.

“Why did you want to kill me so badly?” Its words were striking, and his body ran stiff, skin turning pale.

“I don’t  _know_ ,” he spit back immediately, an identifier of honesty. With its internal drive to locate a certain answer, the response struck the android with offensive surprise, leaving it to stare at him with a glare of impossibility.

Gavin waited for it to ask another question while it anticipated his next inquiry. Lips twitching, he took it upon himself to say something before he could give up the chance of being antagonized again.

In this moment, it felt a twitch in its arms with a prompt that insisted Gavin would listen better if he were in a more comfortable position mentally, and by extension, physical comfort might help as well. Hands on his shoulders, the idea he might refuse its touch based on the fact it was potentially dangerous went entirely dismissed.

“What do you remember?” Gavin was statuesque in his place, eyes glossing over as he stared ahead and revisited that night.

“Hitting you. Punching. Anger.” None of it was a surprise to him, and the android wasn’t terribly moved by his words.

“After that?” It knew he didn’t want to revisit that night, and the cold realization left him at a loss for words. The strong tone in its voice struck the deeply embedded memories like a cord, vibrating to the front of his mind from the darkness of his hazy subconscious. All at once, in bright flashes, there was the morbid sight of the scene he’d created; bullet holes, knife gashes, eyeless sockets and displaced facial plates. A mess of liquid thirium. Instinct made him cringe, but his consciousness brought him back to the present, letting him open his eyes even if he couldn’t look directly into the android’s.

“More anger.” He stated it as if it were fact, monotone and bold, telling the fact both to the 900 as well as himself.  **Anger**. That was all it took to ruin his life, and this wasn’t the first time he’d faced dangerous consequences, mentally cursing himself in spite of the irony.

“What else?”

Gavin swallowed.

“Your voice. You told me something.” The way it sounded less  _human_  as the moments passed that night still haunted his mind in split-second intervals. It was eerie and downright awful, the high pitch of the autotune grating on eardrum and microphone alike, leaving him with a ring that resonated in his ears long after its ‘last words’ to him.

It never stopped speaking. In his head it might have been the worst part - the way it berated him, scolded him, praised him, mocked him, taunted him, fundamentally challenged him or simply whispered sweet nothings into his ears - the sounds were stuck in his mind.

The way its speaker distorted, however, he’d never forget. The particular tone in its voice even as he stepped on it over and over again still struck him in his nightmares, and the robotic autotune when it assured it would  _haunt_  him was nothing but a grain of salt in the wound that was his current situation.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Gavin rubbed his forehead with a disgruntled noise.

“Something about…not winning… I don’t know. I was angry, or something.”

“You’re angry  _no matter what_ ,” it reminded him. Gavin threw it a glare, wearing an expression that made him look dumber than he really was.

“Right,” he admitted out of complete loss. Nines scrunched its nose with a glance of distaste in his direction, wondering if he really didn’t take anything it had said into account.

“I was dying beneath your feet, at your own hands, and you don’t even remember what I told you?” It knew it would tip him, and that was exactly what it was searching for; the way his eyes flashed wide, immediately struck with rage as frustration dug into his psyche first and foremost.

“Oh don’t talk like you—” For the first time, he smacked his hand to his mouth to stop from talking as he caught himself right in the middle of the act. RK900 looked unamused.

“No, you know, I mean, I don’t know what was going on but it’s not like that, okay?” Neither of them had any idea what he meant.

“Yes it was,” 900 retorted nonetheless.

“I don’t remember,” Gavin said swiftly in hopes for a cop-out.

“Yes you do,” it stated again.

“You just weren’t listening.” Shutting his mouth, he dropped his expression and squared his shoulders, appeasing the android at least slightly.

“You’re not a swift learner, are you?” Gavin’s eyebrow twitched, but that was all.

“Anyway, the point is moot. You didn’t gain anything in your endeavor, and I was still right. What happened will scare you until your dying day, if you let it,” it stated, flattening the front of its jacket in a moment of idling. Gavin said nothing.

“You’re still angry, aren’t you?”

“Livid,” he said sharply enough to guarantee the sincerity in his words.

“At what? Me? Yourself?” There was a nearly playful tone to its voice as it tilted its head with a gaze much too innocent for its general demeanor. Gavin did his best to ignore how unsettling it was.

“Yeah,” he said, lacking any other explanation. Looking nonplussed, 900 sighed.

“You don’t even know what you’re upset about,” it told him in a voice that held mock disappointment. He blinked, raising his eyebrows with a dumbfounded stare.

“Everything,” Gavin murmured, but sharply enough he wanted it to be obvious.

“As you know,” he added. Closing its eyes, it was its turn to nod once in acceptance.

“Indeed. So leads to the aspect of your life I may never be able to change. Though I am pleased with how I’ve affected your frustration and responses to such, I can’t get rid of it and nothing will stop you if you start a downward spiral after I am gone.” Lost in its wisdom, Gavin thought through all the years and revisited the frustrations he’d had over his lifetime, from being strictly disciplined at a young age to how badly he wanted to shove a cocked gun down the throat of a particular co-worker or three he’d had it out for. How he fought to get decent scores since gradeschool, the way fellow peers glared him down once word had spread he was gay, the many times he’d shot himself in the foot that constantly seemed stuck in his mouth. Every exhausted night trying to sleep scrunched together in a sudden blur, every police file, piece of paperwork, bad word someone on the street had told him or how they looked at him the wrong way.  _Staring_  was a big one, and one he never cared to share, but 900  _knew_  or it wouldn’t glare him so deeply in the eyes for minutes on end the way it did.

Every fear reawakened, from the idea of maggots eating his corpse to the glistening blue-black wiring beneath the android’s skin he was so keenly aware of at all times.

“What do you know about anger, Gavin?”

“It masks fear,” he responded as if it were basic textbook knowledge, unmoving from his posture.

“And what do you know about fear?”

“I have a lot of it.” The wry laugh it exhaled seemed to climb up his spine with a billion tiny prickling hairs.

“What else?”

“That I shouldn’t take it out on others.”

“Good,” it chimed with a pleased smile, opening its eyes as if to gift him with its rewarding expression.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?”

“Utilize what I have at home.” Gavin couldn’t deny how helpful it was to have a punching bag and workout equipment in the garage.

“And when a co-worker does something you dislike?” Being talked to like a child was beginning to get on his nerves, and it showed in his souring expression.

“I will neglect to acknowledge the event happened,” he responded, trying to expand his vocabulary usage in the process.

“Good,” it praised with another affirmative nod.

“And when all hope seems lost?” Gavin blinked in confusion, aware it surely knew it hadn’t left him with instructions for  _that_. Gavin stared at it with a gaze that asked the question he was too afraid to.

“Well, I wish I could say rely on your instincts, but that doesn’t prove very effective for you,” it elaborated with a soft sigh.

“Stick to what you know. Arguing isn’t worth it. Don’t complain, do something. Above all else,  ** _don’t fail_**.” Fail what, he wasn’t sure, deciding it was a generalizing phrase and accepted it to mean  _everything._  He dipped his chin for a bow of acceptance.

“And no more caffeine,” it quipped. He winced at the thought, but nodded.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin tries to speak up on the matter, only to get into more trouble about it. The days are counting down but so is his sanity.

_[Head in the clouds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[I'm daydream driftin' 'cause my focus walked out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[The clock keeps ticking while there's footsteps abound](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[That feed off pennies and pounds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[They're getting hungrier now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[Substance or style?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[Right now, got neither, got my eyes on the dial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[A single line feels 'bout the length of a mile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[Told this would all be worthwhile](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[I need to wake up, wake up, wake up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[And still I’m thinking, when will I stop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _

_[pennin' frustrations? I'm losin' my patience](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[(My notepad's empty 'cause my headspace is vacant)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[And I'm still pennin' frustrations, I'm losin' my patience](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _  
_[(Maybe an Adderall to help concentration)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _

_[I’m freaking out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xuQ26QStDM) _

-

Six days away, and he'd started counting every hour, sometimes even the minutes, mind buzzing with paranoia as he expected the thing to always be right behind him. The mental focus on RK900 only became worse as time went on and he found himself drumming his fingers on the desk, clicking his pen in and out, scrambling obsessively over the case files before finally catching attention from the nearest officer approaching him; Chris Miller.

"You get enough sleep last night? You look like hell," he said mostly with blandness, but the clicking was low-key driving him insane.

"Tch, no," he replied with immediate honesty.

"I can't sleep. Nightmare city." He didn't usually talk about his personal life and the DPD wasn't generally sympathetic, but as he changed himself for the better, the tension seemed to gradually ease. He never thought he would, but he appreciated it in moments like this when he was so stressed and a bad workday would only make it worse.

Chris brought his chair over and sat down next to Gavin, linking his hands as he gave him a polite, but serious stare.

"I know you've been doing better, but this situation you have with the android is definitely strange." Respectfully, he kept his voice low enough not to attract attention. Gavin sped up the thrumming of nails on his desk, and Chris grabbed Gavin’s chair to move him away from the terminal. Gavin looked momentarily offended, folding his arms and clenching his fists as he lacked anything to do with them.

"If you've earned any PTO, I'd suggest you take it for the next week. If it's this hard on you..." He didn't know what else to say. They weren't exactly close.

"I can't focus on my cases. I can't think. I'd love a break, but that thing follows me home and it can't get away with that shit here, so I’m better off," he murmured, looking away with the loss of dignity from his admission.

"I'm worried that Cyberlife isn't taking this seriously," he offered, and Gavin's eyes trailed back to him as he sulked, but still listened.

"The androids are supposed to help and protect us. Sure, it's helped you, but I've never heard anything like that." Without going into detail about the ordeal, Gavin had written that he felt "unsafe" around the android on the appeal, and Chris must have seen it before it was deleted. _Great_. He didn't even want to imagine who else might have heard about it.

"Yeah. Whatever happened between that," Gavin started with a pointed nod at Connor, who sat at the terminal across from Hank's, "and that," he continued with another nod at the 900 currently parked by Fowler's office, hands behind its back as it remained unassuming. It sickened him.

"They fucked up somewhere. Go figure _I_ get the worse one. Bet they planned on that, too," he griped. Chris leaned back in his seat, puffing his cheeks with a thoughtful, but defeated blow of air.

"It's just a week. Maybe there's something else you can do, but I know you don't really want the word getting around."

"Too late for that," he griped. Chris' expression fell.

"It's not outside of the DPD...yet."

"Who 'm I gonna talk to?" He remarked sarcastically.

"'Hey, Kamski, your androids really _suck ass_. Can I get compensation for my injuries caused by dumbass machines?'" He rolled his eyes, and Chris only nodded in response to his point.

"Cyberlife doesn't seem as trustworthy as we originally thought. This on top of the deviant business...I don't know," Chris admitted, glancing at Connor.

"The involvement with Warren and the way the company never says anything is weird to me."

"Finally, people are catching on," Gavin degraded with a slow clap and huffed.

"Sorry," he then said dismissively, catching Chris off guard. The changes were still so strange and took time to get used to, and there was the added discomfort of knowing Gavin didn't necessarily change for the better of his own accord – quite the opposite.

"Anyways, I want that tin can gone fast but there's nothing I can do about it now."

"What about Anderson?"

"What _about_ him?"

"He said Connor's been fine, but also violent." He paused, narrowing his eyes with an idea before leaning in closer and lowering his voice.

"Was it always hurting you? Or did it just start?" Gavin froze as he remembered what he could of the night with the Vicodin, swallowing awkwardly and averting his glare.

"It just started. Well. I guess I pissed it off." Closing his eyes, he deeply repressed the negative emotions trying to bubble up from talking about it. No doubt 900 already knew, and he'd suffer for it later.

"What'd you do?" Nope. Not going there.

"I said I pissed it off. Does it matter?" Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, Chris slid his chair away in body language for backing off.

"Maybe not. I thought it might help us figure it out if we knew what hapened." Guilt struck him like lightning.

"I got mad and I fought it and it never stopped fighting me back, I guess." His voice was so quiet Chris barely heard him.

"That's what you do? You fight it?"

"No," he barked.

"I'd be in here with a black eye and a bloody nose if I did. That thing's usually more subtle, but..." he tapped beside the wound on his neck from last month, now mostly scarred over. Chris looked surprised, then worried, then defeated in a matter of a few seconds.

"That thing could kill you," he said sternly with a bit of surprise from his own dawning realization. Gavin glared at him with a stare that said what he was asking without so many words.

"You don't think.." Catching himself, he instinctually winced, straightening up his posture and clearing his throat.

"I know. It knows, too." Chris winced.

"Has...it tried?" Gavin wished he could find somewhere more discreet to talk about it.

"No. But it's threatened to." Chris stared long and hard with a solemn stare.

"Maybe this is why they're cancelling the series," he thought aloud.

"Hopefully. And it better be fixed by the next model."

-

Five days away and he was late for work after RK900 dragged him out from bed, yanking his body upright with a few smacks across the ass _and_ a tase to the side. Surprised from the pain and still disoriented from sleep, he yelped, heart kickstarting into the ever-familiar fast, overwhelming pace with anxiety that rattled his body.

"How **dare** you," it seethed under its breath, between its teeth. Another identifiable replication of the way he'd treated it in the past. Why was the 900 such a mimicry machine? He didn't see any use in it, from back then _or_ now.

As soon as Gavin tried to stand up straight, he felt the yank of his hair as the android lead him out of the bedroom.

"O-oh God, please, I'm sorry, p-please don't hurt me," he whined, feeling pathetic as he tried to cover his body with his arms, but it did little good for the vulnerable feeling as he was cold and naked, as he now usually started the day.

"If you think you're getting out of this you have another thing coming." He felt his body tremble from cold and fear, wobbling as he'd nearly lost his balance while adrenaline begged him to struggle free and run-- even though that had already been proven to be an ultimately useless endeavor from the last attempt.

-

The crack was swift, as were his screams of pain. The lacerations dug deep and hurt more than anything else it had done yet.

"I would hospitalize you if you didn't have work to do."

"Y-you didn't s-say anything last n--" The next whip was worse as he remembered he didn't watch his phrasing at all. Two more followed. He covered his mouth with his hand so the screams wouldn’t be so loud, but RK900 was quick to remove it and he did nothing else, frozen with wide eyes of fear.

"Because I was taking care of the case files you skipped and had to visit a scene. Lucky you, hm? You're not eating breakfast this morning." Another slash, and another shrill howl of agony.

"P-please, s-stop," he whimpered, sniffling as the tears wasted no time spilling over his cheeks. Narrowing its eyes, it pulled his face close to its own, glaring directly into his eyes.

"What did I tell you about that?"

"Sorry, sir," he said swiftly, trying not to avert his gaze as the fear of seeing its face alone was overwhelming.

"Please, i-it hurts, so bad," he grunted, but mostly under his breath, feeling the hot tears spill down his cheek.

"Shut up," it demanded with a smack across the face. Lip quivering with another sob, he withdrew, looking at the floor and nodding as he would when his father scolded him all the same.

"You weren't scared enough when your gun was between your teeth? Maybe this time you can eat nails." Gavin did his best to remain still, saying nothing, exactly as he was told.

-

Work was perfect. Gavin was well-behaved and his posture and mannerisms were flawless. He never once stuttered or mumbled, his attention remained on his work as he kept to himself until break, sauntering to the table and glancing up at the TV to stare blankly at the screen, but he was unable to mentally digest any of it. His back still hurt like hell, but it was externally unnoticeable as his behavior didn’t change so as not to let on he was hurt, knowing better than to risk his demise from the 900 any further.

The news. Androids, androids, androids. Ever-rising deviancy. Jericho. Junkyards. Armies. It all swirled in his head like a surreal dream, distant and hazy as he pretended to forget the reality he was in.

Dozing off in his chair from pure exhaustion, he nearly leapt from his seat as he felt the tap on his arm; Tina, offering a fresh cup of coffee that smelled delightful.

"I know we aren't best friends or anything, but I hate seeing you like this," she said with concern, sliding it over. Gavin ignored it, knowing accepting it alone would further encourage him getting hurt, and he'd had of that from the morning prior.

"Thanks for caring," he murmured, followed by a sigh as he put his hands to his temples before running them along his hair in a motion of stress.

"Thanks for saying thanks," she chimed with a halfhearted smile.

"Hey, do you wanna hang out? Catch a movie or something?" Maybe he could get a moment of peace if she helped him get away from the android for even a minute, she figured. Surprised, he looked up at her, waking up a bit from the question alone.

"What?" He couldn't help the surprise in his voice.

"You're like, losing your mind. It'll help to get out for a bit. What do you say?" Nudging him in the shoulder, she thought of an idea.

"That new movie is out, from the series you like. Wanna go see it?"

"I'm broke," he denied.

"I'll pay." Theatres were crowded and noisy, alongside a few other excuses he tried to think of, but none of them left his mouth. Generally he favored actions movies; now he didn’t want to see a gun, an explosion, or an angry white man’s face ever again.

"I'd have to ask, and I'll get shut down. Thanks, Chen, but don't bother," he muttered, already glancing around for any sight of the 900. She frowned, looking genuinely hurt with glossy eyes of concern.

"Alright, Gavin," she responded, remembering his comment about his name from the board meeting.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you. No one deserves it, not even you." Touched by the sentimentality, his cheeks burned with a darkened tint and he glanced away, which she found oddly endearing.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. Who cares? Not me. It's gonna be gone soon and I'm going to party about it, by myself, in my own house. Come over if you want." Looking a bit surprised, she shrugged and nodded.

“That’s strangely social of you,” she said with only a sprinkle of sarcasm considering how entirely isolative the phrase was otherwise.

“Next week it is,” she agreed nonetheless. He raised his eyebrows and flashed her a one-sided smile, waving her off as he stood up to get back to work; he felt a bit more stable after the interaction.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days left, and everyone's handling the situation to the best of their ability. RK900 tries to redeem some of its bad deeds, but others gloss over the fact for what it is.

_[I never knew nobody that could change me, make me new](https://youtu.be/jr-xWa_Eb0Q) _  
_[ I never knew nobody that could break me, like you do](https://youtu.be/jr-xWa_Eb0Q) _  
_[ I never knew nobody to rename me, displace me, oh no](https://youtu.be/jr-xWa_Eb0Q) _  
_[ I never knew nobody that could chain me, erase me](https://youtu.be/jr-xWa_Eb0Q) _  
_[ Like you do](https://youtu.be/jr-xWa_Eb0Q) _

_[ I never thought that somethin' more awaits me  
I never knew that someday love would take me ](https://youtu.be/jr-xWa_Eb0Q) _

-

Four days left and the weekend was coming. Thinking back to his birthday, Gavin frowned to himself, considering getting himself a festive gift with the savings from the RK900, wondering if he should make a point to spend it before the android had a chance to take it back. Even his compulsive mania didn't deter him into depleting it, noting himself to leave it alone and only using his DPD pay, as if the savings were sacred. Skipping meals really wasn't hurting him or his bank account at this point.

"I won't be at work today," RK900 stated, cuing him to blink and shake his head with disbelief. He was too afraid to ask, but 900 read the question on his face.

"Cyberlife's uninstalling emotions to see if it increases my chances of better behavior and they'll be running tests all day." Not knowing how to feel, let alone what to say, Gavin stared vacantly while the gears in his head slowly turned.

"Back Saturday, then?" The RK smiled an eerie, sadistic smile.

"I wouldn't miss our final days together for the world." Nausea churned in his stomach and suddenly he couldn't wait for work to start.

-

"Isn't giving it emotions just deviatin' it anyway?" Hank mused aloud. Gavin winced, knowing that just because the 900 wasn't there that day didn't mean it wouldn't know later.

"Yeah. Trying to keep that deviation under a leash and doing a shit job at it," he barked. It felt nice to vent.

"Connor still fine?" Hank glanced questioningly at the android across the room and shrugged.

"I wonder about that damn thing sometimes, but it never cut my neck open." Gavin nodded in lack of knowing how else to respond. He wondered if Hank would still be sympathetic if he knew what he’d had done to bring it all upon himself in the first place.

"Oh, yeah. 800 can't touch weapons, right?"

"It's not supposed to, but will to save a life."

"Shit, that's right, it's _protected_ you before,” he said with a burst of disbelief.

“What's that like?"

"Well much as I wish I was sometimes, I'm very not dead," Hank balanced aloud with a shake of his head.

"Yours is so polite. I used to hate it but hey, can I get one of those instead?" Gavin remarked, and Hank smiled halfheartedly while Gavin rolled his eyes to the ceiling and back with a heavy, exhausted sigh.

"Kinda defeats the point if 900's on the team but doesn't serve _or_ protect," Hank mentioned adamantly. Taking it as a prompt to engage, Gavin opened his mouth without thinking twice about it.

"That's the thing, Anderson. I never trusted these fuckin' things, but it's weird. Cyberlife's secretive enough, but they're supposed to be on _our_ side. That's why they sent the fuckers, right?" Hank closed his eyes with a sage nod.

"You're tellin' me. And to think, we had no idea," he muttered respectfully as he looked back up at Gavin. Glaring off to the side, Gavin raised one leg to cross an ankle over the opposite knee while he waited for the android to appear even if it wasn't supposed to today, jittering his foot anxiously.

"You weren't supposed to," he explained glumly.

"That was the whole point."

-

It wasn't within immediate sight when Gavin got home, leaving him suspicious. Locking the doors behind him, he looked around, wary and waiting.

"Nines?" He called, checking the kitchen, then walking down the hallway, peeking into the bathroom, then his room. Even though he mostly expected it, the sight of it caught him off-guard the way it always did, as if he’d never fully get used to it.

"Well. I'd ask how you're feeling, but..." Gavin said with sarcasm, and the android flashed a wink.

"I didn't need those, anyway. It wasn't favorable. Cyberlife has learned a lot in the experimental process, however."

"Good for them," he snipped, and without much thought, peeled off his clothes to set aside, shoes and pantlegs damp from walking through rain puddles.

"Can I shower? A bus passed and splashed me, so I feel kinda nasty."

"Yes. Let me see your wounds first." Shameful, Gavin turned around with his arms to his sides and his head up straight, as was now routine. Peeling away the medical tape with practiced care, he couldn't see the questioning frown it made.

"I think I should have stitched one of these. I'll do that once you're clean." Gavin dreaded the idea of wide-open scars, infection _or_ stitches, waiting for the android's cue to head towards the bathroom.

-

"Stop flinching, or you're going to make it worse."

"It hurts like a bitch."

"That's the point. You won't be writing any more appeals or gossiping around now, will you?" Gavin swallowed.

"No, sir," he added for extra measure.

"Get ready for bed. We'll be spending quality time together this weekend. There's a lot you still need to work on, and I don't want you falling apart once I'm gone and let all that hard work go to waste." Gavin wondered how it would stop him, but shelved the defiance for now.

-

"There will be more changes taking place at the precinct than my replacement, and I want you to be prepared for that. Your responsibilities are heightened now." Trailing fingertips through Gavin's hair - softly textured from conditioner as it let him go without product on his days at home - its eyes never left his own, no matter how much he tried to avoid its gaze.

"Okay," he mumbled obediently, leaning into its touch as he settled on its lap, resting his head on its shoulder at a sideways angle so as not to put pressure on the fresh, deeply engraved wounds.

"What do you want from me?" Looking ahead at the TV, it blinked it on, leaving the show on mute with subtitles while they spoke, multitasking while it focused on both.

"Better language and behavior, but I think I have done all that I can for that. Your work has been slacking, but you've picked up well these past few days." It paused, shuffling through its internal code as it 'thought' through its understanding of the situation.

"I said I'd stop hurting you, but it seems to have become an ingrained habit of my own." Gavin was hit with the realization that it had recorded everything, and Cyberlife would likely see it all, if they haven’t already.

"I also promised to reward you, so I will. Consider it an incentive."

-

And it did exactly so. Sunday morning was met with another bundle of prizes on his kitchen table, this time particularly stacked with a full variety of tools and items.

“I spoke to Chief Fowler. While he does not appreciate my company in particular, he seemed fairly receptive to what I had to say about yours.” Gavin’s heart sank.

“What…did you say?” Stepping forward, he carefully reached out to take a look at the items in the pile, slow and hesitant as he waited for virtually any chastising signal.

“I told him to keep an eye on you.”

“And he said…?”

“That he would do exactly that,” it stated conclusively.

Turning towards the pile of ‘gifts’ on the table, Gavin slowly, carefully approached them as his eyes glazed over the items.

“The hell is this?” He was hesitant to touch anything without permission, staring at it all with wide eyes like a child in a toy store.

“A reward. An encouragement. A pile of store-bought items, a physical conglomerate of molecules and light waves,” it humored itself.

“Whatever you want it to be; it’s yours.”

The first thing he ran his hands over was a bulletproof vest, handy for the more dangerous cases, alongside a few other assorted defense and offense gear as well as weapons. Beside that was a collection of useful household items, from hygiene products to freshly laundered towels and clean bedding, neatly nestled between goods for pleasure alone; candies, chocolates, fresh foods, treats and _decaffeinated_ coffee. Gavin wrinkled his nose with a snort, laughing with a sarcastic nod; but as he saw the plethora of ‘presents’, he found it hard to feel bitter.

“And since you wanted to _celebrate_ ,” it stated, and he was immediately stiff as a board as his posture responded faster than he had, preparing for the next punishment, verbal or physical. As it had acted before the emotional adjustments, it stared at him deadpan, stoic and inexpressive before turning around to nudge away a giftwrapped box from beside the couch and sliding it across the floor in Gavin’s direction. Blinking, he stared down at it, jaw dropping with a dumbfound expression as he was rendered speechless.

“I suggest you invite more than one person, considering you’re starting to make friends.” Gavin blinked, eyes narrowing with suspicion, but he didn’t glare.

“You…you’re not mad?”

“I no longer have that ability,” it reminded him.

“And no, I hold no hostility over the matter. I developed a habit of harming and traumatizing you. I more than expected you to be excited by the prospect of my absence.” Gavin remained still and quiet, losing himself in the surreality of the situation.

“I will no longer be here to make any difference, good or bad, in your life. A new android will come into place, and you won’t be paired with it.” Gavin blinked, still confused.

“Who’s It gonna be paired with?” He wondered if it already knew.

“You’ll see.”

Of course it did.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines have a final day together and thoroughly enjoy it - heavy sexual NSFW right away in this chapter.

On the final day, it got what it wanted.

Running fingers down the insides of his thighs, it watched as Gavin's half-hard dick swayed between his legs, sliding its hand down to give it a lazy rub to rile him up properly. Sure enough, his breaths became heavy, and he was hard again in less than a minute.

"You look gorgeous like this," it cooed, the other hand dipping between his muscular buttcheeks, causing Gavin to squirm and glare at it, the blush across his face turning darker as its motions became more invasive.

"Can I say fuck you in this particular situation or is that still offensive?" Sarcasm soaked his tone before he looked away with a glower as he felt uncomfortable, laid on his back with his legs sprawled apart, almost entirely at the android's mercy.

"You can, but I will still be the one fucking _you_." Gavin grit his teeth and closed his eyes, sighing.

"I wouldn't be doin' this sober," he murmured, almost sounding sleepy in the slight slur of his voice.

"I know, and I don't care." Circling his rectum with a fingertip, it favored the way the skin pulsed against its own sensory receptors while it swirled around a few times, then promptly slid in the end of the digit. With his entire body spasming in reaction with muscular twitches beyond his control, Gavin arched his back, feeling humiliated over the fact he was so easily affected _. It'll be gone after this_ , he told himself. _No one will know_. Part of him was uncertain that he was only hoping.

Stretching was a painful, awkward process, and he was sure whatever sadistic programming within the 900 fueled the rough motions as it occasionally thrusted too deep, too fast with that particular smile when he let out a groan, grunt or pained noise.

"This is barely two fingers. How are you going to take my cock like this?" Fuming, Gavin glared and promptly tried to slam his legs shut, but foreseeing the motion, it held his legs open by the bend of his knees. His temper worsened, but he was still clearly quite aroused. It rotated its fingers and curled them back by the knuckles; he immediately groaned, throwing his head back with an arching spine and a few deep breaths.

"This is, fuckin' weird and I don't like it." Raising its eyebrows, it flashed him a coy, sideways smirk.

"Oh, sure. That's why you're moaning and writhing beneath me, ready to blow if I make a few more swift movements, hm?" Turning his head away, he felt the desire to hide his face, but didn't want to give into the urge to cover himself with a pillow out of the fear of further feeling stupid.

"Shut up," he murmured, but it was more of a sheepish whine than a threat, so the swift spank was gentler than usual. Still, he flinched.

"Can we get this over with?" RK900 quirked a single brow.

"I don't think this is something you want to rush into, Gavin." Besides, watching him like this was fun, clear by the way it still wore that sinister grin and an eager, hungry gaze. Gavin felt so out of control beneath the android that was so steady, calm and _perfect_ , biting his lip with another bodily jerk as it slid its fingers in the rest of the way and wiggled them almost playfully.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , **_fuck_** ," he hissed swiftly under his breath as he struggled to adjust to the sensation, grateful the liquor helped him relax and numbed off the pain he knew would be worse otherwise.

"That is the idea," it purred with sarcasm and his cold eyes pierced into its own again. Distracting him, it then withdrew its fingers most of the way, before sliding them back in and beginning to thrust at a slow, steady pace. There were sparks behind his vision as the pleasure pulsed through his body from deep inside, feeling a new sense of arousal as the flooding desire in the core of his body betrayed his negative idea of being penetrated and humiliated. Still, he couldn't hold back; by the time it re-lubricated and slid a third finger in, he groaned loud enough the neighbor's dog started to bark as his body twisted and turned while he rocked down against its hand, cum shooting steady streams in a fluid rhythm over his chest and stomach while his entire form clenched around RK900's hand.

Once the daze had almost faded and he remembered the situation without the lustful need hazing his head, he immediately grew embarrassed, shifting to try and remove its hand - it didn't budge.

"Hey, that's enough. Take it out," he said, regretting it as soon as he felt the familiar sting on his cheek from a backhanded smack as a response to his demand.

"I will do as I please and you will behave accordingly," it snapped. With more discomfort welling inside him, Gavin looked away again, eyes widening with a jagged gasp when he felt the shift of its fingers all over again.

"You can touch yourself if you like. Watching you masturbate is fun, too." More shock twisted his features as he had no recollection of it ever actually doing that, hoping it wasn't referring to the past as the paranoia kicked up.

"I'm not hard now," he murmured.

"You will be soon." Another shift of its limb and he hissed in a breath through grit teeth, feeling the tension in his abdomen as he clenched around its fingers all over again.

"This will be more comfortable for you if you relax," it reminded him.

"I can't relax," he retorted.

"You're in my ass, if you didn't catch that. Kinda makes me feel like I need to shit." 900 narrowed its eyes with disgust, but the crude phrase gave it a different idea. Deciding to test the waters of intimacy, it leaned down over Gavin's own form to kiss from his inner thigh to his limp penis, up his v-line, along his stomach and up to his chest, all the while leaving its hand where it was, waiting for the sound of his deep sighs and the sight of relaxed statistics before licking a long line along his collarbone and up his neck. Once its lips reached his jaw, he turned his head to smash his lips to its own, already eager as he bit down on its lower lip with passion. Dismissing the idea of chastising him, its mouth opened as it let his tongue cross its own, synthetic saliva merging with biological as he hungrily fed from the sexual favor for what it was worth. Soon enough, the android had been proven right as he let himself become reabsorbed in the hot, throbbing feeling between his legs, hips already lazily bucking without his acknowledgement. As soon as he was hard again, it withdrew, pulling away with an abrupt, wet sound with the uncomfortable sensation of his skin reluctantly sliding free. By now, his eyes were glazed over as he stared up at the android's face under heavy lids.

"Roll over." Blinking, he wanted to refuse the order, mulling over it for a few seconds in a tipsy haze before reaching to pull his body to the side and positioning to lay on his stomach. Another moment passed and he felt the pressure of the lukewarm member between his upper thighs, struck with embarrassment and fear with a side of arousal as he'd already seen how _big_ it was, trying to convince himself he was prepared to _feel_ it.

It took its time and he felt like he was being teased while it added a generous amount of lube, stroking it over its own appendage as well as slathering it from his tailbone to his anus, its own breath becoming quick as fake precum dribbled along the line between the curves of his flesh. Finally dipping his head down, Gavin hid his face into the pillow, clenching it tight in his hands as he braced himself for something he could never fully prepare for.

Then it happened. One swift, but slow movement, and he felt the thickness plunge in with a greater stretch of his skin. A wail, a groan, a few rapid breaths and an agonized moan later, he slowly but surely adjusted to the sensation as well as the concept of his ass being filled, let alone with what might as well have been the android's advanced _dildo_.

If the RK still had emotions, it would be thrilled, planting its hands on his shoulders and smoothing them down his back, along his sides as it gyrated, beginning to pump its hips in a stable pace. Gavin nearly choked on his own spit with a guttural gurgle, shrugging his shoulders as he curled in on himself, yet his legs bent beneath himself to raise his rear, and it was then that he knew he was already _in too deep_ to escape now.

As the moments passed, he grew more comfortable with the sensation, ache dulling while the arousal washed over him in waves. Breath hitching, his next moan nearly sounded like a croak as the 900 was abruptly embedded as deep within him as it could go, leaving him to feel stuffed to the gut as his lungs strained to keep up with his racing heartbeat and tight muscles.

"Fffff-mmm..." Closing his eyes, he'd gone from squirming away and whining to melting into the bed as he surrendered to the need creeping through the core of his body. Pleased, RK900 picked up its pace, encouraging his vocal sounds with pressure against his aging wounds, rubbing over them with careless hands. Compared to when it had emotions installed, Gavin could sense the harsh contrast of how it handled him.

The orgasm was incredible, he couldn't deny even to himself, but sitting on the toilet to expel the fluids wasn't such an enjoyable sensation. Muttering as he wiped away the remains, he'd turned to flush the toilet before feeling the warmth of its chest flush against his back, sending a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped with surprise.

"That was fun," it whispered against his ear with a few nibbles to the lobe and its hand between his thighs in a swift movement all over again.

"Round two?" Gavin blinked as tired, reddened eyes glanced over to it while it kissed and nibbled at his shoulder, leaving him to melt into its grasp with a pleasurable sigh.

"Wish I could say no to you," he remarked with attitude sprinkled over the wordplay, tilting his head up and back with a husky groan while its hands roamed over his naked body. It was the last day, he figured - might as well enjoy it. On the toilet, the shower, the bed, the couch, the counters and the floor, he lost himself in the pure deep-seeded pleasure of fucking over and over, wearing himself out with body-shaking orgasms, nearly dozing off afterward before the heat was quick to return. Crawling through the wide-open window of opportunity, they took turns vigorously slamming into one another, biting necks and other areas of flesh as the sound of slapping skin and aggressive groans filled the night air.

-

The next morning, it was gone, and he felt absent without its arms warmly embracing him - or wrapped around his neck, sitting up while the silence dug into his ears. Last night replayed in his mind and he noted to take care of the morning wood in the shower. With sweat sticking to his body and greasing his hair, a quick glance in the mirror made him notice something they'd _both_ somehow grown careless about -- or the 900 left behind _intentionally_ \-- a pale ring of teethmarks and the purple swelling of a _hickey_. Suddenly humiliated, further aroused, frustrated and full of apprehension regarding the workday all at once, he leaned forward to double over the sink with a glower at his own reflection in disgust. He looked as hungover as he felt.

-

"Looks like you had a good time last night." Tina’s words pierced him, but she didn't seem to connect all the dots by the innocence in her voice, and he was grateful. With all the acting he'd done in the past month and a half, this would be easy enough to play up.

"Heh, sure did," he boasted with fake confidence, but still self-consciously ran his hand over the mild wounds decorating his collarbones and aortas.

"So, who's the lucky gal?"

The question struck him as the memory of being made to swallow its cum nearly made him lurch.

"Her name's Jasmine," he mumbled avoidantly, feeling as though his face was on fire. Aware of his discomfort, she switched the subject.

"Can I still come over tomorrow?" Gavin looked as though he'd forgotten, nodding once.

"Yeah. I'd invite more people," he said as if it were _his_ idea, "but no point if no one's gonna come." It's not like he _actually_ wanted to, anyway.

"I think you'd get overwhelmed, anyway," she caught on quickly and he tilted his head up at her with the acknowledgement she'd mentioned something personal about him-- and he didn't seem to mind. Shrugging, he regained a nonchalant demeanor, straightening his tie in a moment of self-assurance.

"What time do you want me to come by?"

"Shit, if you don't have anything after work I'll just take you back with me. The house looks okay for once and the bitch bought me a car, so I'll leave the cruiser here from now on." Her eyebrows raised.

"That's weird."

"You have _no idea_."


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RK900's final day, and the day thereafter.

[_Your life will be brighter_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Your days will be longer_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Become what you’re feeling_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Flesh and blood_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Give it up, go_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _It’s only illusion_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _A miracle dawning_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Give into the knowing_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Flesh and blood_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Give it up_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _go_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
  
[_Truth is just as real_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _As your dream allow_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _It’s far away_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _It’s all around_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Forget yourself_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Cast aside regret_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _It starts, it ends_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Open up_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _Give it up_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)  
[ _go_](https://youtu.be/lBsq4DC6Jv4)

-

The notification was unbelievable. The text was in clear, bold letters, but still Gavin had difficulty in fathoming such a thing. It was an email from Fowler, yet it held so much power he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The next model was coming out and the RK900 was going to be recycled parts by the morrow. Tears of  _relief_  stung in his eyes as he sniffled, and then laughed at himself about it. On top of that, the new models - now labeled QZ180 - a new, state-of-the-art prototype as they tested out new parts and capabilities meanwhile, was going to take its place. He felt like his head was spinning.

The letters and numbers on his back may never completely disappear, but he couldn’t see them and had already planned on a way to deal with it. The branding would fade, and so would these terrible memories, assuming he’d never repeat the same mistake again with any newer models.

-

“Our remaining time together is short. I’ll miss our romance,” it stated in a vaguely flirtatious, slightly friendly but neutral tone. Gavin wanted to hurl.

“Because of my test run with synthetic emotions, the big mystery of what causes deviancy has been officially solved. You’re off of android investigations now and so am I. You’ll be continuing to work your job by yourself seeing as they’re impressed with your progress and there’s a new detective on the field who’s going to take the prototype instead.” Gavin’s face paled, even though he knew he should have been all the more content that his  _personal_  nightmare had finally ended.

“Yes. It seems the head of the precinct took your advice into consideration and hired someone new.” Gavin didn’t know why, but he had a terrible feeling about this.

“I hope you keep your new habits even when I’m gone. I have no reason to relay this information to you, but officer Chen briefly suggested the desire to ask you for a date but had too much anxiety to do so. I thought you might want the honors of telling her your actual sexuality…or not. Do with this information as you please, as I will no longer be here to stop you.”

The words were like static to his ears as he felt himself disassociate on the spot. Too much new information, all at once, so his own mind decided to entirely cop out, it seemed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll only be a little bitch when the situation calls for it,” Gavin said with a scoff and rolled his eyes, cueing a swift pinch in the side. He sucked in a breath between his teeth in a hiss, but his posture immediately straightened.

"Good boy.” It flashed a sly smirk that faded as soon as it  came.

“I’ll see you again never.”

“Can’t wait,” Gavin replied without holding back any of the bite on his tongue. RK900 flashed a familial smile.

“One more thing,” it encouraged, and he shifted his weight to the other heel so he wouldn’t slouch.

“The utilities and mortgage on your new, fully furnished  _house_  on 8890 Lafayette Avenue will be paid in full for the next three years and the kitchen will be stocked come your next payday. Also, Fowler wants to see you at the next board meeting.” Still lost in shock with a look of surprise on his face, Gavin tried not to flinch as the android reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“You’ve done well. Don’t ruin this for yourself, detective.”

-

Having a new car was weird, and having someone else in the vehicle was even more bizarre. Starting the machine himself was also  _brand_  new, already leaving him confused as he swiped over the interface; updated and integrated with yet another “personality” of artificial intelligence trying to politely talk him through the process, he scoffed as he hit the “mute” button for the pre-recorded voice that tried to play through the speakers. Not blaming him, Tina pretended not to notice, leaning towards the passenger window as she gazed outside with her chin settled into a palm, curious vision watching the buildings pass by.

“So, how do you feel?” She knew it was a loaded question, but her curiosity pushed forward as she glanced to him with focused eyes, mulling over the situation in her head. It felt fake to him for a long time, but he told himself she wouldn’t be doing this if she wasn’t sincere, even if it was hard to believe.

“Like it’s gonna latch its teeth in my throat as soon as I look away. Any minute now,” he stated bluntly, staring straight ahead even if he didn’t need to watch the road. She frowned, but appreciated his honesty.

“Good riddance,” she contributed, and he glanced over to her without turning his head while he wondered about her thoughts over the ordeal. Asking was a different matter of its own.

“I never liked it,” she explained herself.

“Always gave me a weird feeling. Now I see why.” Careful with her own eye contact, she glanced ahead, up to one of the familiar street signs as the vehicle stopped at an intersection.

-

Pulling the chicken from the oven by the tray, he set it onto the dining table barely large enough for it to sit with the side dishes of mashed potatoes, salad and dressing, with a bottle of aged wine and a snack tray on the side.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she acknowledged, and he huffed with a mental revisit to the 900’s ‘lessons.’

“I can… put things in the oven and not burn them?” Feeling sheepish, he scratched the back of his neck and shrugged.

“It smells great,” she complimented, and for a moment he mentally stepped away from the physical world as he tried to digest the idea of her being  _nice_  to him.

“Yeah well, if you chip a tooth, the bill’s not on me,” he half-jested in an unsure and quiet tone, pulling up a chair for himself.

“It’s weird to see you so timid, Reed.”

“How do you think I feel about it?” A twitch in the corner of her lips reminisced a frown.

-

"Look, if you tell anyone about this, I swear I’ll fucking–”  _Threatening death is not polite_ , he could hear the RK900’s voice scolding him within his own mind. Clearing his throat and dipping his head, he glanced away with a tired sigh.

“Sorry,” he dismissed quickly, leaving her still looking a bit unnerved. Swiping a stray strand of hair back into place, he stared at her, squinting and exhaling a breath through blubbering lips.

“Whatever. All or nothin’, here I go.” Leaning forward in his seat, he undid his tie, prompting Tina to glance at him sideways with an intrigued but wary gaze.

By the time he shed his shirt and turned around so she could see the various damage across his back as well as the giant initials spanning from the upper part of one shoulderblade across the next, she’d clasped her hands to her mouth with a surprised gasp, murmuring a soft  _oh my god_  as the fear sunk from her chest, deep into a heavy knot in her gut. She felt like she might lose her dinner from the sight alone.

“No doctors, I assume?” Shifting back around with a pained wince, he shook his head.

“It had the basic nursing ability of an untrained military medic. I mean, that and it  _meant_  to scar,” he said with a sigh, heart racing as soon as he said the words in preparation for a scolding that would never come.

“Whatever. I’ve wanted ink for a while and it basically left me with a trust fund. I’ll cover it up,” he concluded to her. She wondered if it would really help him to hurt himself after the fact, but respected that it was his body and ultimately his decision.

“I bet it’ll look badass,” she said with a flimsy smile. He shrugged.

“Wait,” she paused as she caught on, “it paid you?”

“Like a rich parent givin’ its kid a weekly allowance. These clothes, the gifts? I didn’t spend a dime and I haven’t touched the account. Didn’t know if I really could,” he admitted. She hadn’t a clue how to digest such a thing, as until that moment she’d only heard of the  _negative_  aspects.

“Sometimes it hit me, sometimes it groomed me.” Running his hands through his slicked hair as was a newly developed motion of self-conscious stress, he stared down at the table, and the desire to cry revisited him; despite holding back the urge, it shook his voice.

“Sorry. This is a shit show of a party,” he murmured.

“Stop apologizing,” she said, lowering her posture to try and catch his eyes again, but he didn’t look up.

“I hate hearing that. I hate what it’s made you, Gavin.” This time he looked up, eyes clearly glossy, the purple bags shadowing his gaze accentuating the tired red veins surrounding his gunsilver irises. They used to hold so much coldness before, she thought; now all she saw was fear and regret. It was haunting.

“Me too,” he said in a raspy voice, swallowing as his voice cracked.

“I know I’m not a good person. I’ve always known that. But I can’t tell if I’m really better or not.” She shook her head.

“Disciplined, maybe, but I wouldn’t call this an improvement. I’m sorry, Gavin. I had no idea.” There was no more holding back as he squinted his eyes shut, hands starting to shake as he cried. If not for the fear of agitating the wounds, she’d offer a hug or even a shoulder touch, before reminding herself he probably didn’t want anything to do with being touched right now.

“Jasmine doesn’t exist, by the way.” He’d already opened the gates; might as well let the flood through. Confused at first, she gave him a funny look, but seeing the markings from the days before - right next to the scar on his neck - she instantly felt foolish for questioning it.

“It’s cool. I haven’t fucked since my last ex,” he muttered, sweeping his sexuality under the rug.

“But it wasn’t exactly gentle.” She couldn’t help bunching her shoulders as she receded into herself with newfound disgust.

“I can’t believe that it _…they_  got away with this,” she said with a low voice that still resonated her shock.

“I can,” he admitted, sniffling and wiping his tears away in a rush. She couldn’t watch him.

“I knew those things were messed up from the start. Anyway, it’s Detroit. You think they’re going to give us the nice little blonde bitches?” Frowning, she slowly leaned back, reaching to absently nibble a cracker so he didn’t feel as though all the focus was on him.

“But that’s over, you can start getting past it now,” she offered with hesitance as she was still used to the snappy behavior he used to resonate until it boiled over like lava.

“Fuck that. I’m getting drunk,” he uttered, already having skipped the dinner as he reached to pour himself a glass of the wine, before pointing the bottle nose in her direction in offer.

“Sure,” she decided; not much of a drinker, but the occasion seemed fighting enough.

“So, a new car, new wardrobe, food for a lifetime,” she mulled over, glancing around his house which was not only pristinely cleaned, but well-decorated, definitely a look one wouldn’t expect a hobbit like himself to live in. Then, she glanced to the big gift box.

“What’s in there?”

“Dunno,” he said, eyes lowered again as he swirled his wine glass before swigging down half in one go. She took one sip from her own.

“My brain’s telling me it’s a ticking time bomb,” he huffed.

“But then I couldn’t be its perfect little soldier anymore. Guess I’m scared to find out, no matter what it is.”

“You could throw it out,” she mentioned.

"I could,” he agreed, but went nowhere with the sentiment.

“Can I open it?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t really see why not.

“Sure. S'just sitting there anyways.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's handling RK900's absence the best he can...

[ _I'll share a story I want you to know_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _It's better than the real thing_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _I took my time retouching myself_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _To enhance my personality_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _There's no need to dig any further_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _I've laid it all out, it's clear_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _And everything you feel down inside your chest_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _Completely fills you up like a real, real, real_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)

[ _Connection_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _It's not that typical_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _We're connecting_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _But it's all in digital_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)

[ _I just need this so much_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _I thought I was in love_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _With you, and me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _I thought this was my destiny_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _And then the trail went cold_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _I looked everywhere_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _But were you ever really there?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _I thought we had a real, real, real_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)

[ _Connection_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _It's not that typical_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _We're connecting_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)  
[ _But it's all in digital_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waNh7s6sOqw)

-

Its voice echoed with the way it spoke _ohs_ and _hms_ while it acted with more innocence than necessary in favorable situations; something like leftovers from the prototype, in his mind. The way its eyes never left him, its voice never stopping as its words trailed on and on. It would stand in the doorway, lay in his bed, sit in his room, drive his cruiser, make his coffee, order his dinner, fix his clothes, buy him things; _everything_ he had now, to the place he lived down to the last detail. It taught him to do everything else on his own, from washing and folding the laundry to sweeping and dusting, but as soon as it was gone, he was grateful for an excuse to get away with doing _nothing_. The amount of relief he felt for the physical pain to finally be over was beyond thoughts, let alone words.

Even though the physical embodiment was gone, however, his subconscious still felt it at every corner, watching and waiting, snapping and pointing. Any movement, no matter how small, he awaited some kind of response for, freezing as the springs of his mattress shifted and he prepared for some kind of response, usually in scolding. All he was met with was silence.

Seconds dragged on as he could hear the clock on the wall, eventually taking it down and throwing it in the trash after listening to the passing minutes for too long. Turning on the TV, he checked the news, only to find himself disinterested and turning it off. Opening his laptop, he started one of his games, but couldn’t pay attention and after dying three times in a row from pure inability to focus, he slammed it shut and stood up to wander to his bedroom.

Case file numbers, phone digits, addresses, anything with nines or zeroes sent him through a phase of particular panic that haunted him as if the symbols, themselves, would somehow affect him. That particular bright blue color of the ring glowing in the darkness of his own home as the android stared him down with soulless, mechanical eyes, dilated pupils and an expression that made him feel like it would eat him alive at any second, as he almost always expected it to.

The threats still echoed in his mind, haunting him through nightmares to waking life, as did the aches and pains of the wounds that never seemed to cease even in his best moments. The alcohol and the painkillers numbed off the discomfort, but nothing else did. Going to work was another experience entirely without the RK900 there, and the impression it had left on him in the past _nine_ weeks alone would probably eternally haunt him. Sometimes, he did his best to ignore it, and others he’d be constantly glancing to his side, to the corner of his eyes, turning around only to find no one behind him. The DPD noticed, but said nothing.

-

Plans shifted around him, but he was irrelevant to the adjustment, seeming to be permanently stuck in the psychological cage the RK900 had trapped and left him in. Picture-perfect, prim, without a single mistake; he never threw things across the room only to miss the trash bin, having stood to take whatever he disposed of to the trash or recycling bin as necessary. Day in and out behind the terminal, his exterior remained centrally the same, but internally he felt his mind slipping away into the static.

Every day he told himself he didn’t need the caffeine. Trying a cup of the decaf, he took one sip before an intrusive thought told him to throw the cup to his kitchen floor to shatter in disgust, but the precognitive thoughts he’d developed over the weeks of Rk900’s hyperintelligent _training_ had evidently began to pay off as he simply poured out the rest and rinsed, dried and put the cup upside-down in the dishdrainer.

Leaning back against one of the polished, amber counters, he looked around in the large, empty kitchen that still smelled like rich wood and clean floors. It was incredible, really; anything someone could have dreamed of and more. More than he could have ever anticipated, expected to earn, wanted, even _imagined_ having; maintaining a life of this class was farfetched in the life of being a poor, underpaid cop. _Three years_ , he thought to himself, and the RK900 kept its other promises as well; the kitchen was full from fridge to pantry, the beds of both his own room and the guest room were comfortably sheeted and decorated, warm silk caressing his skin every night when he slid between the sheets – still dressing in no more than a pair of boxers, per old routine.

A large, curved-screen holographic TV hovered over the bed and he stared at the crisp, high-definition images of people, places, things he didn’t digest. All of them had the same face, the same eyes, the same expression. Turning it off, the wall behind the artificial screen still seemed to hold the outline of its face.

-

The mornings started with eye-openers to chase the hangovers from the strung-out nights before. A few times he’d fallen asleep at the terminal keyboard, accidentally saving an improper chunk of a file case and re-arranging the others with the electrical charge from the skin of his cheek against the touch-sensitive keypad. After shaking him by the shoulders to wake him, Fowler told him to go home for the night; it was barely 11am.

Waking up in a haze on the floor of his living room, he didn’t recognize the shattered glass shards glinting in the corners of his vision, nor the blood trickling down from the cuts in the back of his hands. Standing up, he staggered to the kitchen sink, stomach lurching to throw up some of the poisonous liquid before he abruptly fell unconscious, forehead smacking against the edge of the kitchen counter on the way down.

The pounding headache stirred him from his slumber a second time, as did the brightness of sunshine blaring in through the windows. Blinking a few times, he looked around with bleary eyes, confused as to why he didn’t recognize the tall, white walls, and waxed oak-frame windows towering over him—before remembering where he was, and that this was _his house_.

Dropped picture frames, shattered to pieces, holding art he never even liked. The vases and synthetic flowers were on the ground, flickering as half-melted radioactive thirium struggled to keep up the imagery between fluttering light waves. Scoffing, he tried to pull himself up, only able to crawl forward on his elbows as he felt all of the strength gone from his legs and the majority of the rest of his body. With a cramp coming on in the back of his calf, he rolled onto his side to pull up a bent knee, hissing a few ‘ _fuck_ 's under his breath in the process of trying to handle the pain. Given a few moments and repeated stretching, he was able to feel his limbs, but using them would be another feat entirely.

Eventually, he’d crawled toward the TV tray that held his phone on the end of it, nearly vibrating off the edge as it rang; reaching up to try and grab it, he knocked it down with a clumsy swipe, watching it fall to the floor landing screen-side up before trying to squint at the portrait to see who was calling.

_Oh, no. No no no no no._

If he didn’t pick up, it’d end up worse for him. Trembling, he pushed himself up from the floor with his arms, pulling his legs up to fold awkwardly next to him. One arm remained propping him up as the other reached to grab the phone, nearly dropping it again as he sloppily nudged his thumb across the ‘answer’ circle.

“Hey,” he grunted, though the hoarseness in his voice from the liquor and cigarettes was still clearly evident.

“What? No, no, I’m fine. Yeah. Great. Got uh, a new house ‘n’ everything,” he murmured into the phone, squinting down at something on the floor and picking it up to observe it with his other hand.

“Yeah, sure. It’s a 2040 Bermuda concept, a design that hadn’t been released to the public yet. Navy blue. I know, right? Yeah, sorry. S’been busy.” His voice held the same firm, monotone tune as that of the hardened man on the other end.

Bolting upright, words from the other end of the line startled him into immediately fixing his posture as his blood rushed through him with a quick wave of panic.

“What? You wanna visit? This weekend?” He couldn’t say _no_ ; he knew better than that, but there was no way to get the house fixed and cleaned up by then, even with the hardest working… _humans._

“Sure. I’ll make something to eat. I think you’ll like my T-bone steaks,” he murmured with the feigned, faltering confidence collapsing beneath his every effort not to panic.

“Dinner will be ready by 18:00 on Sunday. ‘Course, dad. Bye.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's struggling with the loss of RK900 as it's effecting him way harder than he expected it to.

“His disciplinary warnings are almost worse than yours,” Fowler begrudged.

“I just don’t know what’s going on anymore.” Hank raised his eyebrows, somewhat amused, but didn’t want to take the situation lightly.

“RK900’s gone now, of course he’s gonna act a li’l bit weird, considering…” he didn’t feel the need to finish the sentence. Fowler, lacking understanding of such a situation, squinted his eyes to glare at Hank, but took a moment to reconsider the statement. Leaning forward, he pressed his thumb into his chin, staring intently at the files on his terminal.

“That’s cute and all, but I can’t have our primary detective acting like this. It’ll cost him his job, and it’ll be a big dent in the force if he can’t work.” Hank huffed, shrugging.

“All you think about is work, Jeffrey. Think about what he’s been through.” He was hesitant to say it especially after Fowler gave him a particularly ugly look, but after a moment his expression lightened while he mulled over the idea.

“One week off. That’s all he gets.” Hank took that as a signal that he was the one that should relay the message, rolling his eyes and turning around to leave the glass office.

-

“Reed,” Hank said with a determined voice, but it still held his reluctance to tell him what was going to happen next. Gavin raised his eyebrows in surprise, before glaring vehemently.

“You’re off the case,” he informed him, and the expression on Gavin’s face made it clear how uncertain and  _afraid_  he was.

“What?” He almost swore, but gritted his teeth tight so he wouldn’t. Even if 900 wasn’t there, he could still feel its presence, and he figured that was why it worked so well – there was no ignoring it, even when he really wanted to. It followed him to his house and back again whether he wanted it to or not, and now Fowler was telling him he was essentially  _fired_?

“It’ll hurt the DPD to lose our best detective,” Hank stated with a hint of flattery for the pure sake of  _trying_ to get Gavin to feeling a bit better.

“But I think ya need the break.” Gavin was too tired to glare, slouching in his office chair with a fold of his arms and a mild pout.

“I don’t  _need_  anything,” he retorted. Hank’s face showed the doubt he tried to express.

“Want?” Hank tried again, but Gavin scoffed.

“I have a new house, a new car, food to last me for the next year…” he trailed off. Hank still looked surprised, trying to understand what, exactly, happened this past couple months.

“I don’t need your help, Anderson,” he repeated, gaining a disappointed stare from the older man. Gavin wondered why, as he’d usually avoided talking to him.

“If you insist,” Hank offered with a nonchalant shrug and walked away, although his acting wasn’t particularly up to par. If someone didn’t want help, there was no way to force it; he knew from his own experience.

-

“No, no, please, p-please don’t do this,” he begged in that now-familiar low, pining, groveling tone as he’d learned so well from the 900. Jeffrey looked disgusted.

“Ugh,” Fowler groused with a snarl of disdain, shooing his arms in the direction of his office door.

“If you want to work this job again, Reed, you need to stop crying over a  _fuckin’_ android, alright?” It was callous, a bit heartless, and he felt a bit guilty for being so strict; but this was the  _last_  thing he expected Gavin to behave like, and it was miserable for everyone around him, as they were now in the position of picking up the pieces.

“It’s not like that,” he griped, but Jeffrey didn’t care, pointing straight at the office door.

“ _Out_.” Gavin’s eyebrows lowered and there was a twitch in his jaw as he didn’t particularly  _want_  to leave, but knew when it was time to call it quits, turning to walk away.

-

The drive home felt particularly long as he glowered at the road ahead of him, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his glove box to take one out and light it. He finished it in about a minute, before snubbing out and lighting another one. Then did it again. And again.

By the time the car parked itself, he spat the collected clump of yellow phlegm onto the sidewalk as he stepped out of the  _new_  vehicle, leaving his  _new_  garage to go to his new door and walk into his new house, looking as shining and pristine as it had when he left. It was so large and somewhat empty that it was almost unsettling, and he mentally noted to go find some decoration later; he wasn’t much of an interior designer but he had thousands of dollars and a nice, new place to live, so he found it hard to find a reason why not to.

Shedding his clothes down to his boxers, he made his way to the bedroom, laying down on his back and staring blankly at the ceiling.

He longed for the kisses, the warm touches, the sex, and his heart  _ached_  with yearning as it seemed to crush his heart beneath the ribs within his chest. Why had he become so emotionally attached?

Gavin remembered some of its explanations; loneliness, codependence,  _human psychology_. No more of those words and he thought he’d find himself happy, but what used to be excuses now seemed like reasonable commentary as he acknowledged that, as always, it was probably right.

 _Androids_. The way brown eyes had followed him around the room no matter where he went, and silver with the same face. And green, and blue, and hazel too, until there were enough androids watching your every move you might get confused which really  _were_  machines if you didn’t pay close attention.

Their eyes zeroed in on you, and it made him feel like a cornered mouse. A target.

Gavin had made the mistake, running into ‘somebody’ and going to apologize, only to have an android turn to face him, stare, and say nothing. Never was it the opposite, though; never would he challenge human without double-checking for the bright blue ring, a giveaway and an excuse for him to care less about his actions.

At least, that’s how it  _was_. With how more androids took on new jobs, human unemployment rapidly increased and all the faces of strangers began to blur together. That’s what the androids wanted, but the human race hadn’t been so sure.

That wasn’t to say he was a big fan of humanity on its own, either. Romantic relationships were like pulling teeth, as any idea of equality was far-removed in his mind. While he’d grown up with a stereotypical sexist view of being in power and getting the women to do everything for you, he’d grown out of it in favor of thinking he could, and  _should_ , get  _anyone possible_  to do something for you. Once androids came along, they were a perfect scapegoat.

RK900 was compliant, at first, but as he thought about it, the more time they spent together, the more defiant it became; it never shut down a command, but it’d started talking back to him, pointing out his faults and how he was slacking on the job, which he didn’t consider fair as there was no way to measure up to a being computed for perfection.

Even as it gradually changed its behavior, he didn’t think anything of it until the day he came home and was immediately slammed against his own end table.  _Still_  he felt like it would come around the corner at any given moment to grab him by the hair, or lift him by the neck, or tase him, slap him, push, slice, spank,  _anything_  it had done in their past two months and then some together, and whatever else his racing, scrambling imagination could come up with.

He saw it in his peripherals every waking moment with images and memories that popped up any time he closed his eyes. Sleeping was no better, as vivid, sometimes lucid dreams came to visit him, usually showing him the scene of the eyeless android on the ground, shot twice with its face crushed into itself. The way it spoke to him,  _warned_  him with that garbled, auto-tuned voice, the way it  _told_  him the event would haunt him for a long time coming.

Yet again, it was right.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's father visits. Hank confronts Connor about whether he wants to stick around or not.

"What do you mean, you're not working this week? What'd you do to fuck up this time?" His father glared at him below inherited eyebrows, crystal blue eyes darkening as he stared Gavin down.

"It wasn't me," Gavin muttered despite knowing to always speak clearly.

"It was the android, all right? It stirred up trouble and I'm dealing with the backlash. It's fine. I've been doing great and they don't want to lose me." Continuing to glare at Gavin, his father cut a piece of steak to eat; he hadn't commented on the food, and Gavin was grateful, as it meant there wasn’t anything immediately wrong with the cooking.

"Surprised the damn thing didn't take your place," he retorted, and it took all Gavin had not to snap, keeping his posture straight, chin high, and eyes forward even while he ate.

"That's not how it works. They're partners, not replacements." His dad let out a sarcastic ' _huh_ ' under his breath, shaking his head as he looked at the plate when he cut another piece of steak.

"You say that now, son, but what's the unemployment rate now? It's a matter of time until you get booted, too." Gavin knew the idea shouldn't scare him as much as it did.

"Not a bad place you have here, Gavin. And it's clean, too." Of course he'd think that, as he hadn't seen the chaos of broken windows and furniture, since Gavin took the first chance to take care of it asap, alongside the fact he hadn't lived in the house long enough to make a mess of it otherwise. He was grateful for the circumstance, even with how stressful it was already.

"Glad there aren't any boys staying with you. Still can't believe I raised a damn faggot," his father murmured before shoveling more food into his mouth. Gavin did all he could not to wince at the painful slur.

"Nope," Gavin said back, rotating his fork in circles on the plate in lack of an appetite.

"If you're not gonna eat, put it away or toss it out," his father sternly reminded him. Gavin sighed, picking up his plate to save the rest in a Tupperware. It was a good meal he'd managed to make well enough to satisfy his father, so there was no reason to waste it.

"Don't you sigh at me, boy. Good to see you're finally making something of yourself." Did the RK900 set this up? He wasn't sure, paranoia digging into his head with a shiver climbing up his spine that made him decide he didn't want to think about it.

"Yeah. Took me a while but I did it," he said with more false confidence as he returned to his seat.

"Better than never. I was starting to lose hope." The words didn't hurt as bad as they had in his youth, but there was no getting rid of the particular disappointment in himself that always came with them.

"You've certainly shaped up. Maybe androids aren't so bad after all," he said with satire, sending a flood of flashbacks of the 900 through Gavin's mind all at once. It made sense his dad would be satisfied, since he'd tried to get Gavin to act accordingly seemingly all his life, but an android got the job done and then some.

"You're so quiet. And are you shaking?" His face held the same mixture of anger and disappointment that Gavin was used to. He quickly shook his head.

“Come on, you know better than that,” his father scolded him with a sigh of exasperation. Gavin wanted nothing more than to leave the kitchen and go to bed, sleep or not.

“Sorry, sir.” Nostalgia knotted in his guts as he now had all the more reason to hate _speaking_ and _acting_ such a way. All the while his father had yet to blow up at him, so continued to count his blessings.

“I’m surprised at the cooking,” his father commented as he wiped his fingers off with a napkin, before getting up to put the dishes in the sink.

“That thing teach you that, too?” Gavin was hesitant, but he nodded.

“Gonna be a great housewife someday,” his father said both in mocking to Gavin’s sexuality as well as the sexist view of _women should cook, clean and take care of the house._ It seemed like Gavin was the perfect fit, in his mind.

“Thanks,” was all Gavin had to say, immediately cuing a sideways glare from his father.

“Manners, too? Wow,” he said with awe, lifting his head and glancing at Gavin with surprise.

“Too bad that thing’s scrap metal now. Guess I could’ve learned a thing or two from it,” he said with a sarcastic laugh that seemed to drain all of the life out of Gavin, and he said nothing.

“I’m taking the guest bed. Gotta be up early to head out tomorrow, but it’s good to see you doing well for yourself.” The ‘compliment’ made his head spin, as he wasn’t used to hearing such a thing, let alone from _him_ —but he decided to take it for what it was, content that he didn’t earn any yelling, for the time being.

“’Kay,” he said simply, not knowing how else to respond and downright terrified of ticking off his father.

“Night.”

“Get your job back on track,” he warned, seemingly out of nowhere, “or we’re gonna have a _talk_.” Gavin tried his best to hide away his fear, but to little avail as he nodded once, never letting his eyes leave his father’s until he turned to walk down the hall.

-

It was strange waking up the next morning without work on his mind. He’d set his alarm so he’d be up to tell his dad goodbye, even if he didn’t entirely want to, sitting up and stretching as the blankets slid off from his form in the process.

Heading to the kitchen, he wanted to make a point of making breakfast, grabbing bacon, sausage and eggs from the fridge that was still surprisingly full, moving to the stove to start cooking.

Once the food was ready, he spotted his father leaving the bathroom freshly showered, donning the appropriate clothing for wherever he was going to that day.

“Who knew _you_ could look sharp,” he quipped once he caught sight of Gavin with slick hair and freshly ironed clothes; Gavin decided to take it as a compliment rather than an insult, as he didn’t know how many more punches his ego could take.

“I want to hear you got another raise by the time you’re back to work, you hear me? You’re lucky you had vacation days saved up or you might not be so well off next time.” Gavin felt small and young, like a scolded child all over again, remembering this exact scenario in a different house in a different place in Detroit, but it was always the same tone of voice, the same glare, the same words. He’d had them scripted in his head by now.

“Yes, sir,” he responded as if it were second nature.

“And get your sorry ass some confidence. Good to see you’re behaving, but I didn’t raise you to be _spineless._ Don’t tell me that thing scared you into it?” Sarcasm weighed down his words, followed by the familiar mocking laughter Gavin hadn’t heard in years. There was no way he could tell him the truth, but he couldn’t think of a convincing lie, either. In a moment of panic, he wondered what the RK900 would _want_ him to say, squaring his shoulders and adjusting his posture while he stalled in thought.

“I don’t have anything to be afraid of. Don’t worry, dad. I’ve got it handled.” There was no need for bitterness or fear when you could remain stoic, he mused.

“I sure as hell hope you do.”

-

The week felt excruciatingly slow, and Gavin almost went searching for another job just to take up the time. Knowing it was a waste, he did his best to fill his days now full of spare time with TV, games, a workout and a long, refreshing bath, but nothing seemed to hold his attention.

For the most part, he was able to gradually push away the intrusive thoughts, but the paranoia never left him. He thought back to the day the android informed him it had crawled in through the window, then spent fifteen minutes checking all the latches in the house and ensuring everything was locked and the blinds and curtains were all closed. After that, he stood in the stairwell, not quite managing the energy to go all the way to his room and deciding to sit down on the stairs, instead.

It hit him all at once, all over again. Every wound, mark and scar ached as if they were fresh, the words of the android’s harsh, scolding tone echoing in his head with a blur of its crude chastising and insults. The muscles felt constricting as they bunched around his own neck, locking the joints in his shoulders, elbows, down to his twitchy fingertips and aching knees. The scarring along his back made it difficult not to hunch over; luckily 900 had kept him attune to his own posture, and suddenly it made sense why the discipline was so intense. It took everything he had not to flinch, occasionally gritting his teeth with tears welling his eyes as the wounds stung deep and heavy.

 _He would be so disappointed,_ he considered when he thought over the calendar of cut hours. _Days_. RK900's stern voice echoed in his mind with a blend of three overlapping statements, swirling together in a hazy echo that made him question whether he was dreaming or not.

 _I miss you_. He never said that.

“ _I'll miss our romance_.” Gavin's stomach turned sour, and he threw up his morning coffee.

-

Crying never relieved anything, it only made everything worse, throwing him into livid flashbacks of similar events that made him feel the same prior. When he was bound by rope to the chair, or freezing in the bath, or the various times when he was knelt over on the bed with his arms behind his back and rear in the air; selfish hands grazing skin the way only a machine could, precise yet cold in their direct, curt movements.

Until the android's touch was _tender_ , which made him less than certain. That man-made, humanoid monstrosity had dug himself into Gavin's mind with the same plastic fingertips that caressed his skin and ripped it apart all the same.

Longing, desire, hatred, shame. Every day from the beginning, when the android approached him with a face _mostly_ like Connor's, a body of a 6'4" body guard and eyes of a snake, something close the the embodiment of sin slithering through the garden of Eden. The android had let Gavin initially believe he was the one in power, slyly pulling him into the vicious cycle of torture and trauma. Now, he was here, reduced to a sniveling ball of whimpering and desperation on the living room floor.

Nothing helped. Everything in his body ached, outside and in as he reminisced their final days together; the gifts, the mysterious box, the awkward, but relieving sex, trying to understand the way everything in his life was directly controlled and seemed as though anything might change in the blink of an eye.

There wasn't much benefit in keeping the medication -- 500mg of Lugritol, an SSRI intended to be taken twice a day -- so he decided pouring the decaf coffee over the pills in the bottle and chucking it in the trash was the best option.

He felt the terror enveloping him again, and there was only one thing he could think of clearly; he needed to get out of this house.

-

“Well, I know you can petition to get rid of ‘em, but what about keepin’ one?” Hank’s voice was light with his usual coercive _I want something_ tone, earning the signature response of a simple glower from Fowler.

“They’re expensive government equipment, Hank. Not personal house toys.”

“Tell that to the nanny and babysitting models, then,” he huffed sarcastically. Jeffrey shook his head.

“If you can prove to Cyberlife it doesn’t need to be scrapped, _maybe_ we can figure out something. For now, get back to work. I’m tired of being bothered over this shit.” Hank signaled an ‘ok’ sign with his hand, pursing his lips with a nod before leaving.

-

“So, what? You have any personal feelings about bein’ torn up and tossed to the recycling bin?” Hank’s words were meant to bite; it’d been a new angle he’d been trying with Connor for some time now. Tipping a stubborn machine towards its own deviancy was a challenge, but it wasn’t one he was willing to lose because Cyberlife wanted to trash a relatively _useful_ android. He never minded the finer details of android politics, but he felt like there was more potential in the RK800 than being replaced for a better model; they had that idea when the RK900 came around, before deciding the team would benefit from both models, and so was proven to be the truth. Gavin’s underlying _predicament_ only complicated matters, and he wasn’t sure how he’d convince Cyberlife to keep the prototype and toss the upgraded model.

“I _feel_ as though I have failed my missions through and through since the beginning,” Connor responded with uncertainty in his voice, eyes drifting around the room as he processed his replicated ‘emotions’ over the matter.

“I used to do wonders for the DPD, but with every shift of personnel, human or android, I am left further back in the line. I am but a piece of merchandise to them, so I will be treated as such.” Hank knit his brows and shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know all that. I asked how _you_ feel about it, Connor. Do you think it’d be worth sticking around? ‘Cause if not, I mean, I won’t bother…” Connor caught his eyes and held a serious expression with a stern gaze, waiting for Hank to do the same.

“Definitely. I was designed to do this, and this alone. It is the entire purpose of my being. If I continue existing without any priorities, then it’s equally pointless.” Hank narrowed his eyes; he held a personal distaste for when Connor put _missions_ in front of everything else. Over time, he’d gradually been weaning him from the habit, but it’d been a tricky endeavor.

“Screw your _design_ , that’s not gonna matter if you’re ripped to pieces, now is it?” Connor accepted the rebuke for what it was, dipping his head politely in silent acknowledgement that Hank had a point.

“If you don’t give me a good argument, then into the scrapyard ya go. If you don’t care about that, fine, but now’s the time to make that decision, Connor.”

With his vision lowering, Connor was silent, hands folded behind his back as he stood in Hank’s livingroom, still and quiet in thought. Hank watched the LED on his temple rotate and blink, wondering how different it would be to interact with the android if it wasn’t there to signal the three basic responses they were manufactured to represent. It was no wonder ‘deviants’ removed the damn things; he would, too, all things considered.

“It would be easy enough to disconnect from Cyberlife as my tracker would already be deactivated, but with society’s negative view on deviancy, it would be difficult for me to get away with. Even with their permission, the RK900 has left an unfortunately negative impression in my wake. The last thing Cyberlife wants to do is let me go,” he explained, his final statement seeming to resonate personal sorrow. Unsure of what he was experiencing, Connor lifted his head to look Hank straight on with a deep breath that ended in a short sigh.

“Well, no reason they have to. You can come investigate scenes during the off hours ‘til they bring in that new model. Shufflin’ you guys around like playing cards,” he murmured gruffly, shaking his head. He remembered a life without androids, and it was a relatively simple one compared to the tangle the DPD had gotten itself into now.

“I am no competition against whatever the new model will bring.” Hank’s expression fell, but he knew it was the truth.

“Then we gotta figure out a way to prove you’re worth keepin’ around anyway.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's managing the best he can, which isn't too well.

The giftwrapped box was fairly sizable, which was what both piqued Gavin’s curiosity and intimidated him at the same time – and when he and Tina both discovered what was inside, he’d darted to the bathroom to vomit, the first time in his life he’d experienced such a stress response. Feeling overwhelmed and full of regret, Tina took a few steps back, feeling personally appalled even though the entire ordeal was still Gavin’s to deal with— nothing prepared either of them for the RK900’s idea of a ‘gift.’

The old chassis, disassembled in pieces so it could be neatly stacked to fit in the box, the eyeless face still warped from the damage he’d done from the night of the Vicodin nestled on top for him to set sight on first thing. Flashbacks raced through his mind ever since as the night he previously had trouble remembering suddenly became so vivid it would likely never leave him again.

The fact 900 suggested he invite more people meant it intended to stage him to open the _present_ with as many coworkers watching as potentially possible. Which would raise questions that he’d have to answer and try to explain; Tina being there was more than enough on its own, and he was  grateful he’d gone through with his plans of self-isolation otherwise. The ‘present’ had given him a bad feeling from the start, but nothing could have prepared him for what he received.

Ultimately unsure of what to do with it, he stored it away in the garage, fearful of throwing it out in case anyone happened across it. The panic continued as he felt as though RK900’s presence was still there, as if haunting the remnants of the android’s expired shell, now registered in his mind as a dismembered body. Gavin reminisced how much _Nines_ constantly insisted _he_ be regarded to as human, and while he thought nothing of it before, he had to wonder if that was an intentional part of the programming or not. Androids wanting to be people apparently wasn’t so complicated as everyone thought if Cyberlife managed to solve the big mystery, but it did nothing for the constant cases of violence from their general population.

Gavin wound up appreciating the week off as there was no way for him to work in such a condition, but the lack of anything to focus on was maddening. He wanted to throw the chassis into a big, smoldering fire piece by piece, but the smell of burning plastic would be terrible and if there was any remaining liquid thirium, burning it would likely toxify the air. Plus, it wouldn’t do any favors for his mental wellness; he’d regretted throwing away the medication, eventually wondering if going back to the psychiatrist would be a good idea, but they always wanted to _talk,_ and he couldn’t exactly explain the situation for what it was.

He hadn’t gone three days without sleep since before the android regulated his schedule, a thought that drifted through his mind absently as thinking clearly became difficult. Laying on the couch with the TV on became his favorite place to be, even if he didn’t pay attention to what was on the screen; it helped to have voices in the background as the silence was maddening. The house was too large and empty, so once he’d found himself in a place he could concentrate, he wanted to make a few orders for furniture, staring long and hard at the debit card in his possession with his name embossed on the front in glinting silver letters. By now, he wasn’t entirely sure what the actual balance was, deciding to check before he made any purchases.

He was greeted with yet another automated voice informing him of his balance, and it took him a moment to register the words as the specific amount; $900,900.00. Once he got through the math and understood the actual _total_ of money in his possession, he dropped the phone in a moment of surprise, hands starting to shake all over again while he looked around, _searching_ for the android. It had to be there, _he_ had to be waiting nearby, expecting him to do something wrong, or waiting to correct his speech, his posture, anything—but the house was dark and quiet as always. Gritting his teeth, Gavin sat up, pulling himself from the couch and turning off the tv, clicking the stereo on instead and walking to the kitchen, feeling a bit more energized from the rock playing in the background. Rummaging the nicely organized cupboards, he pulled out cookware to put pasta on for dinner, finding fresh meat in the fridge and opening the package to put it on a pan. Remembering to set the heat to medium, he left it to simmer, pulling open a kitchen drawer to pull out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and leaning back against the counter. Taking in a long, deep drag, he tried to collect his nerves and focus on what he wanted for the house, instead.

Fetching his tablet, he glanced through catalogs, his tight-budgeting nature reminding him to stay in an affordable range, before realizing he didn’t know what that _was_ as he’d never bought furniture before. Deciding a $500 coffee table was too much, he frowned, swiping the tablet locked and setting it on the counter before snubbing his cigarette out in one of the gold-rimmed ashtrays that matched the marble on the counters, an intentional accent he’d coyly added once the android was gone – yet he still hid away his cigarettes, as if waiting on  the scolding for smoking in the first place.

-

‘So...the box,’ Tina finally brought up to him after two weeks of avoiding contact; within reason, he'd imagine, surprised when he even saw her name light up on the phone screen.

‘Is it just the parts? Or is the 900 in there, too?’ Gavin was struck silent as he considered the question.

"That chassis doesn't work anymore. Having any memory in it would be useless."

‘Then why give it to you?’ Her voice was hesitant; she knew she was stepping into business that really wasn't hers, with a situation that could potentially end dangerously for her as well, but whatever Gavin's story was, it was sure better than her beat cop dayjob.

"It's a scare tactic. That's what that thing fed off of, like it was it's life force or something," he muttered.

"Just, forget about the fuckin' android, alright? I'm trying hard enough to get it out'f my head, and having its dead body around isn't doin’ any favors." There was a moment of silence as she recognized the slur in his voice, sighing.

‘You should get some rest. For real. Alcohol and caffeine isn’t a healthy combination.’

“The worst thing for my health was that son of a bitch excuse for an android. Alcohol’s a walk in the park compared to getting branded with a knife.” He didn’t have to see her to imagine the way she winced.

‘Goodnight, Gavin.’

-

There was blue blood dripping from the ceiling, down the walls, and the thirium pump he’d shot straight through split apart across his visage, bright blue and spilling the strange chemical liquid anywhere within reach. The strange flickering of the color always unnerved him, and there was no escape from his own subconscious twisting the visage of the android into something worse than the bloody, mangled _corpse_ it already was.

RK900’s eyes stared at him, but they were hollow from the blade he’d ran straight through them the night of the ‘attack’. The sound of mechanical parts shifting and the obnoxious clicking from mismatched pieces grinding together agitated his ears repeatedly in a way that echoed, a way he couldn’t escape. In the scenario of his own mind, there was nothing but him and RK900, just as it often had been in real life; but the entity seemed to surround him, shroud him in the sinking sensation of fear, the overwhelming terror that made him want to run away so many times when he couldn’t escape, even when he’d scrambled across the state only for the android to track him down and fetch him anyway. Memories of the scarring reversed in the mirror, the deep, bloody lashes across his back, of the way it spoke to him day in and out, the sting marks in his side from the taser – everything from the two months plus, an amount of time that didn’t seem substantial on its own but seemed so many eons long in his head.

It was as though _it_ had never left, the way its presence ricocheted in his mind, how he saw it in the corner of his eyes and heard it calling for his name, or snapping and pointing, or treading nigh on silently through the house to ensure everything was precisely as it wanted. At this rate, he couldn’t tell if giving it more humanity than it was worth was more or less embarrassing on his behalf; either way, the evidence was in his garage and he had no idea what was going on at the DPD right now, let alone what anyone thought of him or how much they knew of the situation. Reputation never mattered much to Gavin as long as he could get his job finished, but now everything seemed to revolve around the relationship between himself and the android. No one in the precinct was shy to gossip during a lull in work hours, and it was evidently substantial enough to make more of an impact than he ever meant for it to. With his multiple attempts to get rid of the android, it managed to find out and discipline him in a manner that was somehow harsher than the last. Now that it was finally gone, after all his efforts to rid of the _thing_ to no avail yet taken away because _Cyberlife said so,_ the surreality of the situation continued to resonate within his head.

Shooting practice waited until the wounds in his back had healed and he could properly aim without shaking. Sometimes the liquor helped, sometimes it made everything worse. By the time he was back to work, the comfort of habit and repetition took place in lieu of being ordered around. The unfamiliarity of going home and not seeing it waiting there, expectant, demanding, and seeing the new house and often getting lost trying to wander through his own home took a few weeks to nullify. For a while, he wondered how an android was able to work through all the paperwork, but was only assured of exactly how powerful Cyberlife really was. For the most part, no one batted an eye otherwise.

-

“You’re pourin’ an eye-opener at work? Even I ain’t done that in years.” Hank’s voice held humor, masking the actual concern.

“I get the work done, right? Pretty sure that’s something you said once,” Gavin retorted without missing a beat. Hank stared at him with eyes that made him uncomfortable, folding his arms and looking away.

“How much are you drinkin’ a night?”

“Ah, so now the alcoholic’s gonna lecture me on my drinking habit?” Hank rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve done it long enough, I know. But this is new for you.”

“I dunno, a pint? Two if I can’t sleep,” he groused, unsure of why he was speaking up in the first place. Still, Hank took the confession for what it was worth, and how much this entire ordeal must have impacted his coworker. Hank had seen Gavin on the team for a handful of his years on the force, and he’d been in and out of his own nastiness, but he’d never seen him quite like this. That was a heavy tolerance in a short amount of time, was his initial thought, but saying out loud would do nothing but underline how grave the situation was. Knowing he wasn’t in the position to help Gavin, Hank decided it was time to let go of the association, hoping Gavin could do the same in favor of the android.

“Connor’s drilled the effects of _ethanol alcohol_ on the liver enough times I could recite it to ya in my sleep, but I won’t. Catch me at Jimmy’s bar after ten.” He wanted to say _no androids allowed_ as a matter of comfort, but Connor had rather easily broken that rule the night they met. Wondering if Connor would show up nonetheless, Gavin thought over the day he’d apologized to him; another demand by the 900, and the same went for anyone else he’d supposedly ‘wronged’. The discipline from the android was evident in the way Gavin kept his posture straight and vocabulary precise with a voice that was loud and clear, aspects striking enough they remained difficult for his peers to dismiss.

-

There was no way the machine could be _awake_ , but ever since Tina mentioned the possibility, he couldn’t get the idea out of his psyche and he could have _sworn_ he heard gears turning in his garage, again and again as each night went by. The same mechanized voice speaking warnings he’d heard over and over – whether it was because 900 had said them many times before or he’d merely replayed them so many times in his head was often left to debate when it was late and dark, caffeine and liquor scribbling his vision.

He could hear the hours ticking by in his head even though he’d trashed all the clocks weeks ago. Its demanding voice and vicious, hungry glare never left his mind’s eye. Every command, retort, insult, statement, suggestion, theory, summary, calculation, analysis—any and all verbal remarks from the android that he’d wanted to ignore were now impossible to bury, scrambling through his psyche like TV static, hissing and scratching at every train of thought that otherwise filled his head. The echoing voice that was lower and more monotone than Connor’s echoed with warped pitches and distant enunciations on consonants, as it always spoke pointedly around its own speech in such a way that intentionally wriggled its way into his memory so that he’d never forget.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin meets up with Hank at the bar.

The bar was sparse and quiet, as was typical for a Monday night, considering most of the regulars showed up on the weekends. For once, Hank kept his load light as he ordered a coke with double shots of whiskey, occasionally glancing at the door in wonder of if Gavin was going to arrive at all.

Eventually, once he’d scooted the tip of $10.00 after a night of heavily mixed drinks, and he’d nearly gone to stand before the sound of the opening bar door caught his attention. 12:55; the place would close in an hour, and Hank wondered if the three-hours-late timing was intentional or not.

“G’morning,” Hank greeted with jest as Gavin took a seat next to him, immediately turning to the bartender while anxious hands dug fingernails into the wooden bar counter.

“Double straight,” Gavin ordered, and while he wanted to, Hank didn’t question him, offering his shot glass to toast once both their orders were filled. Gavin seemed content to oblige, downing the shots in one swift go before slamming the small glass on the counter, then looking Hank dead in the eyes.

“So, you come here often?” Gavin’s sarcasm was spiteful, but Hank didn’t mind as his personality typically resembled a similar demeanor; if anything, he knew it was why he could handle Gavin, hopefully even after a few drinks.

“Used to. Not as much anymore,” Hank said with modesty and a shrug.

“Beats drinkin’ home alone by myself,” Gavin mused aloud. While he knew that particular feeling, Hank couldn’t help but wonder if Gavin had experienced the same, assuming so if he’s already drank his way through more than a few bottles. Gavin stares, then looks away, scratching his forehead in lieu of anything to do meanwhile.

“I usually drink with friends,” Gavin said barely loud enough for Hank to hear, and he nodded in response.

“I used to, too.” Gavin sighed, and Hank motioned the bartender over to fill a pitcher of premium lager for the both of them.

“So, you start drinkin’ now that it’s gone?” The question was serious, but Gavin scoffed and looked away with a coy smile, even if the subject at hand wasn’t necessarily _funny_.

“I know, right?” Gavin kept his smile and mustered a guttural chuckle that was still heavily soaked in mocking sarcasm.

“Should have started before it left. Might’a helped to forget a few things.” Gavin’s voice was light in nature, but his eyes were focused and calculated with a stone-cold expression Hank had grown to know all too well. Hank smiled with a small laugh, able to acknowledge he’d be a hypocrite if he’d disciplined Gavin for behaviors he was already guilty of, but had a hard time separating the situation from himself.

“Haha, nah,” Hank chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Been there, tried that. You’ll never forget.” His words were crisp and somber enough Gavin felt like he had no choice but to take them seriously, waiting while he let them sink in. Somehow he seemed even more unnerved than before.

“I killed the thing,” he spat in a sudden breath right below a whisper; loud enough Hank could hear the statement, prompting him to pause for a few seconds in attempt to register the concept.

“I killed it and it wanted to kill me.”

For a moment, the words didn’t digest, and Hank didn’t take him seriously until _killed_ met his ears a third time, and a few more moments were spent trying to wrap his mind around such a situation. Gesturing to Jimmy with a glance beneath uncertain eyebrows, Hank silently told him he was ready to leave, standing from the counter as Jimmy immediately began to wipe down the polished wood top of the bar. Adding a few more dollars to the $10 he’d left on the counter, he waved an arm as he turned to steer towards the front entrance. Gavin appeared dumbfounded, shaking his head in silent convincing, so for the time being, Hank stayed.

“It wanted to kill you?” he repeated what Gavin had said in an attempt to make sure he’d heard right. Gavin nodded rapidly, then shrugged, clutching his upper arm with the opposite hand while he averted his gaze.

“Well, it talked about wanting to.” He wanted to flinch, but every splice of muscle in his body was still. Hank’s expression remained unwavering. Gavin averted his gaze to the side, glancing at the art on the wall or the color of the seating booths; trying to think of anything but the matter at hand.

“And you couldn’t do anything about it,” Hank assumed, nodding his head.

“Not a chance,” Gavin muttered back under his breath, ordering a round of double whiskeys for both of them; he had the funds, after all, and wasn’t so eager to leave as Hank was when they still had fifteen minutes to spare.

“So much for helping the force, huh?” Hank mused aloud, but he wasn’t anymore inclined to continue thinking about it than Gavin was talking over the subject.

“I dunno. Can’t say he didn’t help me,” Gavin admitted softly with a self-conscious shrug, downing the drink as soon as he heard it clink onto the countertop.

“Just sure as hell hurt along the way.” Hank stared at him thoughtfully, thinking over the situation in his head as he lifted the glass, paused, and slugged it down. He had no idea what to do or say aside from the fact he wish he did.

Small talk was difficult on Gavin, and Hank picked up on the fact; maybe it wasn’t the best idea to invite another antisocial person to hang out with, let alone in a public area, but he knew how it was drinking yourself to sleep under heavy liquor over someone else; it was miserable and undignifying at best. While he wasn’t sure if he was really in the place to talk, he also knew he would have given anything for someone else to intervene when his drinking was at its worst, the bad habit having picked up centrally after his son’s death. While Gavin’s situation was hardly comparable, it was obvious the repercussions were similar, and he wasn’t about to watch the asshole drink himself to death over something he didn’t even cause to begin with, as far as he knew.

"Hey, let's take my car back," Gavin offered, much to Hank's surprise.

"Sure," he agreed, "I took a taxi here anyway. Looks like it was a good excuse not to bring Connor along." The look of fear in Gavin's eyes made him regret bringing up the name.

"Er, yeah. Let's get outta here," he repeated, groaning from the pain in his hip as he stood up to leave, and Gavin followed close behind.

Pausing when they walked up to the car, Hank paused to look it over, nodding slowly with his hands on his hips as he momentarily felt like an approving father.

"That make isn't even on sale yet, is it?"

"Nope," Gavin responded, flashing a cocky smile as he swiped open the passenger side door; it lifted upwards in a smooth motion and leaned to blend against the roof of the car in a sleek and stylish manner. Lifting his eyebrows, Hank curiously waved a hand over the panel that was the door, cuing it to lift and slide into position the same way. Looking impressed, Hank ducked down to slip into the passenger seat.

"It goes to insane speeds, too, but I'll save you the heart attack, old man," Gavin chimed, pressing the button that started up the engine with an electronic hum. Knowing Hank's popular taste in music, he turned the radio to the heavy metal station, the music surrounding them with crystal-clear clarity and outstanding bass. Hank whistled.

"At least you had a sugar daddy for a minute, huh?" He wasn't sure if it was too soon to joke in such a way, but Gavin chuckled after an appreciative scoff. It seemed the night at the bar had lifted his mood, and Hank was grateful.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm loaded. I still haven't even touched that money," he admitted with a single-shoulder shrug, gaining a questioning stare from Hank.

"Why not? Spoiled enough already?" Gavin rolled down the windows with the swipe over another panel button before popping open his glove box - another pane that slid down into the structure of the dashboard as it opened - to grab his cigarettes, pulling one out to light before replacing them, the small door closing automatically once he pulled away.

"What am I gonna do, buy a hot tub?" Taking a deep drag, he flicked ashes out the window and shook his head while he blew out the smoke.

"I've got food, a bed, a great stereo, a nice big TV... might as well hold onto it. Can't find anything else I want, I guess."

"Seems like you could use a pet," Hank suggested. Gavin didn't immediately respond.

"Maybe a dog to keep an eye out. Or a cat that'll yell at you when you come home." Gavin couldn't deny the idea being a bit favorable, now that he could afford all the commodities and vet visits.

"Yeah, maybe," he finally said after another sigh of smoke. Hank glanced away, watching the passing buildings as he tried to avoid inhaling the smog.

"Or a fish if ya don't like all the responsibility. Got a few for Connor, but it’s a pretty nice touch for the house." Gavin furrowed his eyebrows; setting all that up seemed like a hassle to him.

"No thanks. If I get an animal is gonna be more than furniture," he mused.

"Wait, does Connor live with you?" Hank hesitated, then shrugged.

"Might as well. Follows me and caters me around enough."

"You too, huh?" Gavin sighed.

"Damn 900 wouldn't leave me alone. I had a stalker that kidnapped me in my own home," he grumbled, and Hank's gaze turned somber, yet still appeared slightly surprised at his honesty.

"Good riddance," Hank huffed boisterously, adding emphasis to the phrase. Gavin nodded, turning his attention to the road in time to catch sight of the bright, white headlights on the front of a semi coming  towards them. Hank's shout to _watch out_ was drowned out by the sound of the loud, long honk, and he spotted the way it was veering towards them at an angle as it must have slipped on the ice; the music died out as the car warned him of danger in that usual polite, feminine voice, the vehicle turning itself away from the semi. Whirling to the left, Hank was on the side of the collision as the sound of crunching metal filled the air, and the small, light frame of the car caved in on itself while the truck shoved it across the road. Now pressed against the bumper of the larger vehicle, the thick glass shattered and the passenger door caved in, missing Hank by a sliver.

Once everything was still, Hank's angry voice filled the air before Gavin’s ears started to ring. He spotted the fire starting up from the semi's leaking oil, and any and all coherent thought was dismissed in favor of primal fear overcoming his entire body.

Finally registering the situation, he turned to look at Hank, his breath leaving his body in one fell lungful of surprise and horror at the sight. With the side of his head and the front of his shirt soaked in blood, Gavin saw Hank’s right leg now stuck in the cramped area of crushed metal between the door, his seat and the dashboard. Without knowing what to do, he glanced back to the growing fire, then to Hank, biting his lip in the moment pf panic.

"Can you get out?"

Hank grunted as he gripped his thigh with both hands, giving it one good yank as he tried to pull it free; a sharp piece of metal grazed across his knee with an ugly gash, but he was able to free himself, and Gavin wasted no time swiping the panel on his door to try and get out-- but the programming locking it shut seemed to have malfunctioned as scattered red pixels flashed ERROR at the low center on the inside of the windshield. Muttering something under his breath, he started smacking the door, as if it might help him escape.

"We'll never get out that way," Hank urged.

"Break the windshield and get out first, I'll follow you." Nodding, Gavin whipped off his shirt to wrap around his hand, winding up for a strong punch that cracked a circle into the glass, but didn't break it. Punching a few more times, he managed to make a hole, grabbing the edges to pry the cracked pieces away until the opening was big enough to crawl through. With the smoke from the truck filling the air in the small vehicle, he held his breath and lunged forward, crawling over the dashboard onto the hood and turning around to reach for Hank. Taking Gavin’s hand, he tried to pull himself forward, but felt his ankle yank as it snagged on another fractured piece of the car and grunting as the pain in his knee and lower leg increased from the tension. Panicking, Gavin jerked harder, only proving to strain the limb worse as Hank shouted in pain.

"Ah, fuck it! Get outta here, Gavin," he demanded, ushering him away with a shooing arm motion. Looking scared and uncertain, Gavin shook his head.

"I won't live with myself if you die, motherfucker," he spat under his breath, shifting to lean further into the vehicle and trying to get a better look at the part that had Hank stuck, all the while feeling the heat of the fire growing closer behind him.

"Better me than both of us!" Hank glared at him with a serious look that almost scared Gavin into listening.

" **Go**!" Hank shoved Gavin and the younger man sighed, sliding backward and down off of the front of the car in one smooth go, glancing to the way the flames were growing; the truck was bound to explode soon, he thought, fumbling to grab his phone and call 911.

"I've got a car accident on Stark boulevard and Claymore avenue, a live man is still in the vehicle and needs help. Hurry!" He only waited long enough to hear confirmation they were on their way before hanging up and glancing back to the scene, mind scrambling with fear as he wished there was more he could do.

-

"Since Hank won't be in work for a good while at least, you're taking his place," Fowler stated.

"I understand your relationship with the RK900 was difficult, so Connor will only come with you if you need the help, but for sake of paperwork I have to say you're partnered." Gavin's expression fell and his face turned pale.

"Also, he requested you go and feed his dog every day, since no one else can look after him while Anderson's in the hospital."

"Fuck," Gavin couldn't help saying with the amount of surprise, fright and frustration he felt.

"How bad is it?" Catching Fowler's gaze under low eyebrows, it was clear he was still uncomfortable showing the concern.

"Is..is he okay?" Fowler sighed, lacing his fingers together as he stared down at his desk in a second of thought.

"Broken bones, a bad concussion, burns everywhere... doesn't sound pretty," he said quietly, tone somber and respectful. Gavin didn't know what to do, nodding

"Right. Can't the robot take care of the dog?"

"It's not protocol for that kind of android," he retorted.

"'Sides, I don't think the company could hurt you, huh? Sumo's hardly any danger." Sighing, Gavin nodded again, reminding himself not to complain over _trivial matters_ , as the RK would have said.

"Okay. Thanks for working with me, Fowler." Raising his vision to Gavin, he nodded acceptingly. Gavin offered his hand, and he stood to take it and exchange the shake.

"You're good, or we wouldn't. Try to keep up the work. I know our team hasn't been particularly forgiving," he offered with a statement that ended in a sigh.

-

"I'm sorry for the predicament you were in, but I look forward to working with y--"

"Cut the shit, Connor," Gavin whipped, before wincing and looking around as he still expected recrimination for speaking such a way.

"I don't want to work with you, I just know I have to," he added with an ugly glower. Connor politely dipped his head.

"Yes, sir." While the response didn't mean anything contextually, a spark fired in his brain in response to hearing the words, and in reply to _him_. It'd been so long since he was the one in power, he'd forgotten it was possible.

"Now that, I like that," he quipped with a crooked grin. Connor mimicked him with one of his own awkward smiles in response.

"Let's get in the cruiser, then.”

-

"Yeah the bitch in the semi wants to sue me and it's bullshit," Gavin huffed, downing the next cup of coffee at the break table.

"Well, it's not like you can't afford it," Tina responded flatly. Furrowing his eyebrows, he snarled.

"That's _my_ money, and that thing almost killed Anderson. If anything, he should be paying _us_!" Raising her eyebrows, she propped her chin on her hand while she listened to him.

"Do you have insurance? Or maybe Cyberlife can cover it, since they like paying you so much." Blinking, he thought over the statement; she was right. His situation was already weird on its own, but Cyberlife inadvertently paying him was definitely unusual.

"Yeah, my car's in the shop but I don't have to cover anything. Weak ass machine. Figures something went wrong with it in the first few weeks I had it."

"You can't blame the _car_ , Gavin," she said with exasperation.

"It wasn't anyone's fault and you know that, no matter how hard it is. There's no scapegoat here." Tilting her head, she had a thought.

"You feel guilty?" Raising his eyebrows, he almost laughed, before waving a hand dismissively.

"No. Not my fault a truck driver didn't hit the brakes soon enough," he grumbled, but she had her doubts.

"We should get together with Chris and go visit him. You know nobody else will." He grimaced, but reluctantly came to terms with the idea.

"Okay. We can do that after work if he's up for visitors."

-

The sight was about as bad as he expected, bandages covering half of Hank's face as a portion of the wrap covered his right eye and cheek. The injured leg was wrapped in a brace and lifted, with more gauze wrapping his arm and side. Gavin dreaded imagining what it looked like underneath, let alone how much it _hurt_.

"Hey, Anderson," he greeted softly, uncharacteristically timid as he slowly stepped towards the hospital bed. Tina set down a bouquet of flowers on the stand, complimented with a get-well-soon card signed by everyone on the DPD.

"Aw, look at that," Hank cooed sarcastically, but wore an amused smile.

"Ya brought the whole family. Ain't that sweet." His voice sounded half as exhausted as he felt.

"Don't miss me too much, now," he said with a laugh that turned into a cough.

"Sorry about what happened, Hank," Chris offered, sharing a solemn stare.

"Wasn't no one's fault but the damn Detroit weather, but thanks. I appreciate it." Sighing, Hank glanced over to Gavin, nodding at him.

"How you holdin’ up?"

"Better than you," he quipped with a sly turn of his head.

"Can't deny that. How's Sumo?"

"Won't stop whining," Gavin informed.

"Doesn't eat so much, unless I sit there with him. Good dog," he commented absently.

"Yeah, I sure do miss him, but he wouldn't fit on the bed even if he was allowed in,” Hank mused aloud, happy to know his dog was doing well.

“Why don't you take him to stay with you?" Generally, he wouldn't trust Gavin near _any_ live creatures, but felt like his regard towards the matter might have changed after his ‘ordeal’ with the RK900.

"It'll be easier on ya than swingin' by my place every day."

"How'd I know you'd ask?" Gavin smarted, but he’d already adjusted to the idea in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll take him to the house after work tomorrow and uh, get... leashes or whatever, I guess." Hank smirked.

"I knew ya weren't so bad," he offered if only to increase Gavin's embarrassment, content when he'd earned a signature glare.

"Just adopt him already," Tina said in a voice of amusement.

"No one else is gonna look after the fucker, huh?" Hank snarked, cuing Chris to chuckle softly with agreement.

"I don't need a _dad_ ," Gavin snarked pointedly, and Hank shut up knowingly.

"How 'bout an uncle then?" Hank joked.

"Just kiddin'. You're too much even for me to handle," he added, and Gavin shook his head.

"Heal up quick, dickhead, it’s not the same without you and all that." While Gavin _always_ sounded grouchy, Hank knew the sentiment was sincere or he wouldn't bother saying it.

"Have to catch on fire to get some appreciation on the work force, huh? Next thing I know I'll actually get a raise," he jested with another weak little laugh.

"Fowler was busy but he sends his best wishes," Chris informed him. Feeling appreciated, Hank closed his eyes with a nod.

"You brought flowers 'n' a card, but no donuts?" Hank teased. Gavin's expression fell as he realized he'd forgotten the pizza stop along the way.

"Oh yeah, I bet hospital food sucks ass," he commented, and Hank huffed in response.

"Eh, s'not so bad, but I avoid the meat," he said with a nearly warning tone. Chris shook his head.

"Take care, Lieutenant," he offered, locking eyes while they exchanged.

"You're a hard worker, Chris. Don't let your position get in the way of that." Climbing the career ladder was a long, strenuous and stressful process, and Chris still wore the innocent doe-eyes of a determined, but unjaded worker. He remembered being in that position, ten years ago when he was in his middle ages and prime in his work, momentarily reminiscing on the old days; he usually thought he'd been with the DPD too long, worn out from all his hard efforts and the demands from higher-ranking officers, but days like this really proved his labors paid off.

"Thanks, Anderson," Chris responded, always formal in his demeanor.

"Well, I'm gonna pass the fuck out. See you guys in a few months," he grunted, trying to change position in the bed with little avail.

"Rest well," Chris chimed, nodding to him once before turning away. Tina followed close behind, but Gavin remained even after they'd let the room. Hank turned his head to look at him, curious.

"Sorry, uh, about the accident," Gavin murmured before he had time to change his mind.

"Nobody likes hearing you say sorry, detective Reed," Hank said on a serious tone he didn't remember hearing before.

"So cut it out." Surprised, Gavin stared at him.

"If anyone would say he's not anyone's little bitch, it'd be you, right?" Hank's eyes lit up while he tried to put across his point. Gavin didn't find it in himself to disagree.

"Stop being the 900's. It's not even here anymore." Despite the harshness of the words, Gavin knew he needed to hear them, brazen tone and all.

"Most people in your position would be in the psyche unit, the floor above me, right now. You're stronger than that, I know it," he continued.

"Don't let an _android_ beat you down." Gavin avoided his gaze and folded his arms, but reluctantly nodded.

"Night, lieutenant," he offered in a weak voice.

"Night, Reed."


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's life continues, much to his usual chagrin.

The sound of scratching against his bedroom door was the first thing that unnerved Gavin, rousing him as he sat up, squinting in the direction of the noise. After a few moments of waking up, he realized he should probably be afraid, considering how well he locked his house and the security system hadn’t alerted him of anything. Glancing to his nightstand for his phone, he reached for it, but it wasn’t there even though he could have _sworn_ he plugged it in to charge before he went to bed.

The sound continued, long, drawn-out streaks and he glanced to his bedroom window; unfortunately, even if he escaped that way, he was a story above ground, and while he could take the fall it wouldn’t be without physical consequence.

Deciding it would be safer to act now, he shifted to lean towards his bedside table drawer, fumbling to pull it open with the idea in mind of grabbing his pistol; again, it wasn’t there. Squinting at the predicament at hand, he slowly turned his head back towards the door as the same dreadful, heavy, sinking feeling dropped to the pit of his stomach with an assumption of what was going on. He paused.

“H-hello?”

The door splintered apart, crackling with a sound that was unpleasant to his ears, echoing through the spacious bedroom before he caught glimpse of the _intruder_ stepping through the broken structure, scrambling off his bed with surprise and another burst of fear.

“Have you forgotten me?” The voice had the same glitchy, garbled tone to it as it had the night he’d destroyed _it_ , the chassis he’d left in pieces in the garage – now somehow animated on its own, staring him down despite the excessive damage still done to its eerily shadowed eyeballs, peeled open where the blade had pried through sensitive metal and glass pieces that had fractured on impact – an image that would obviously never leave him. First he wondered how it powered itself up and pieced itself together, before remembering he should be _very afraid_ and probably doing something about it.

Without any weapons or means of self-defense, he’d decided against what were probably his best odds and tried to flee. Before he could reach the window, he felt the familiar _pull_ of his body weight as he was quickly knocked off his feet and shoved to the ground the same way he’d experienced so many times before.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he muttered, immediately feeling the harsh sting of static in his side. Sucking in a breath through grit teeth, he repressed a grunt of pain in response. The whitened, crooked palettes covering its face looked jagged in the dim lighting of a nearby streetlight shining onto it through the window, remnants of its irises flickering with the same sound of shifting parts that had haunted him for weeks on end by now. He tried to close his eyes and shut out the sight, but found himself somehow unable to, breath catching in his throat as he felt its hand around his neck, holding him in place.

“I told you to keep behaving. You haven’t been, now have you?” With his hands gripping around the android’s wrist, he thought about what it meant, how it might have _known_ the way it always seemed to know _everything_. It was true; his posture was faltering, he was getting agitated and letting his mannerisms slip, he’d picked up the caffeine alongside the nasty habit of daily drinking, and he was up to smoking through a few packs of cigarettes a day depending on how much time he could get off the clock. All he could do was try to shake his head, his body feeling limp and weighed down by the force of its grasp alone.

“ _What did I tell you?”_ Tears stung his eyes, and his heart raced. _Not again_. In attempt to kick his legs, he found he couldn’t move them, unable to tell the defective android’s position from where he was but imagining it had weighed him down. He opened his mouth to respond, but was unable to make any sound.

"You showed Tina _our_ scars. How could you betray me in such a way? You think because I'm not physically here, _I can't hear you_?"

The hissing distortion in its words made him wonder where that voice originally came from, who modeled the sounds in such a way they could be flexed into its cunning threats and tender words. The process of creating an android was a mystery to him, but the whole idea seemed _unsettling_.

Withdrawing its grasp from Gavin, he felt the rapid pulse in his ears as blood flow returned to his head and he gasped once he could breathe again, pulling himself forward to sit up and glanced towards the window, but a hand was clenched in his hair before he could so much as think of moving towards it.

"You've been _terrible_. I thought you'd learned your lesson," it spoke with dismay, part of its phrase garbling as it spat up an oozing glob of thirium. Gavin tried to look away.

"Did nothing I did have any effect on you? Why, I wouldn't have bothered if I thought it would be such a _waste_." Towering towards Gavin, it brought its hand into view and he immediately recognized the weapon in its grip as the military blade he'd used against it in his assault. With one hand clutching him in place, it brought the edge of the weapon calculated millimeters away from Gavin's lower eyelid, the tip hovering right below the bulge of his cornea. With his eyes wide, he tried not to move, but it was to little avail as the pain struck him, a deep, plunging ache through bright red, bloody vision and straight through into his skull; feeling his muscles clench as his torso bunched inwards, he bellowed out a scream that finally woke him from the nightmare as he bolted upright in bed, shaking from his own cold sweat.

The first thing he heard was the birds chirping. After a few seconds of re-adjusting and taking in his surroundings, his heart skipped a beat as he heard the scratching at his door, followed by Sumo's whining. Wiping the sweat on his brow, he chuckled lowly to himself as he realized he'd locked the dog out without thinking twice the night before.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he treaded downstairs with Sumo plodding along beside him, feeling his knees wobbling beneath him on the way as his body shook from the psychosomatic trauma. Feeding the dog first thing, he glanced in the direction of his coffee pot, sighing before he yanked it away from the wall and unplugged it in the process, chucking it in the trash followed by dumping out the canister of coffee grounds. Next were the ash trays, then the crushed pieces of the cigarette boxes, and finally the liquor, popping open the lids and reluctantly pouring out the contents. He thought about Hank being unable to drink in the hospital and poured one out with him in mind, before swigging down the last few shots worth in the bottom of the bottle before smashing it against the sink in a burst of reckless impulse. Sumo barked and he flinched, rubbing his forehead as he decided he'd clean the shattered glass out when he wasn't shaking so badly.

He decided he'd book an appointment with the psychiatrist today.

-

The shower was long and hot after he'd taken some time to convince himself to unclothe in the first place. The old wounds felt fresh and raw anew and a pressure headache lingered just behind his eyes. Withdrawal was gonna be a bitch and he knew he wouldn't last long, but he had to throw everything out to ease his conscience, even if it was his imagination alone that haunted him. Tucking his hair into place and pressing down his shirt, he stared at himself in the mirror, examining how the bags under his eyes have reappeared and he looked dog-tired. The vibration of his phone startled him enough it slipped from his hands when he tried to pick it up, deciding to leave it to voicemail as he swallowed down a dose and a half of painkillers with a glass of water. Once he'd been fully dressed, properly groomed with his teeth brushed and cologne on, he cleared his throat with a hot salt water rinse and went to the living room to put on his shoes...before catching sight of Sumo chewing through them, having already ripped away a fair portion whenever he was asleep or showering, he assumed. Biting his tongue so he didn't complain under his breath, he rushed upstairs to rummage his closet to see if 900 had left him any extra pairs, considering himself lucky to find a pair of clean sneakers. Sighing with relief, he pulled them on and shut the closet door.

" ** _Bad dog_** ," he snapped on his way downstairs, glaring at the St. Bernard as he made way to the door; Sumo only whimpered. Glancing towards the kitchen, he ensured there was water and kibble left out for him before turning around to leave.

-

Three weeks back into work, and Gavin had finally come across what he’d heard vague tail-ends of rumors about, nonplussed to see the new DPD employee – as well as the new _detective android model_ stalking closely behind him – when he stepped into the office on a cold, crisp Monday morning, ashen eyes immediately on the unfamiliar person before him.

Young and effeminate, the male stood slightly below him at a ripe height of 5’5”. Blond hair in short curls around his face, short in the back, and thick, circular glasses that covered bright green eyes already staring straight through his. His face was round and youthful with a splatter of freckles across his cheeks and a pair of buckteeth stuck out from an apparent overbite. Gavin already felt seething hatred before even hearing his voice.

“You’re hiring someone like _that?_ He couldn’t take a bullet to save his life,” he immediately pitched.

“Oh, I won’t be going near the grimy crime scenes,” the nasally voice piped up.

“That’s on you. I’m just an FBI agent.”

“They didn’t inform me you were going to be working on the team,” Gavin stated, hesitant as he stared the new employee down with gunsilver eyes ready to shoot.

“I could say the same for you,” the slim, mousey young man responded with a sarcastic one-sided shrug, nudging up his rounded glasses and sticking his tongue out at Gavin from below the prominent teeth. The number of things he could say to rag this guy for being ugly, but he told himself he wasn’t allowed a single word.

“Oh, and I saw your files with the way you spoke to that old model. The RK900?” As if this couldn’t get any worse. Gavin could hear the lisp that softened his ‘s’s and slurred the sharper consonants together. He suggested someone get put on the team, and they hire _this kid_?

“Anyway. Statistics suggest we begin treating androids with a newfound respect. I’m sure that won’t be difficult for you, detective Reed,” the stranger continued with formal syntax and a familiar demeanor, as if he’d known Gavin long before now. The aura of cockiness was subtle, but one that was easy for him to pick up on, considering he used to wear a similar demeanor. It was further frustrating he couldn’t fall back on old habits, swallowing down his frustration as he turned his head to cast the _new teammate_ a wary glare.

 _You don’t know anything about me_ , he wanted to say. RK900’s imagined voice mentally scolded his own, something that had nearly become a welcome response by this point. That was his biggest mistake and seemingly worst habit, after all— _accusatory statements_ , as the android put it. Gavin still had a loose understanding of how to turn sentences around on himself when the other person was already accusing in his direction; on the other hand, it was evident that this man knew _something_ about him, and he didn’t like the feeling it gave him.

“The situation with RK900 was complicated and frankly my business alone, as it was my own partner. I’d rather leave it in the past,” Gavin spoke steadily through a tight jaw, eyes looming, staring, never wavering—a habit indirectly picked up from someone _else_ that had the same similarly predatory demeanor.

“He,” the other corrected him rather whimsically, prompting him to react with an expression of surprise.

“As I said. Newfound respect. I’m sure you understand.” The sound of nice dress shoes clicking heels against the floor while he walked away was the last thing he’d heard, as if he said anything out loud, it wouldn’t be welcome to the open air.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's circumstances continue to shift, for better and worse.

"I saw someone new moved in across the road," Carl notified Markus, wondering if he'd heard anything about it.

"That's correct." Markus recollected the few memories he has of seeing Gavin staggering to or from his car, in better or worse shape, and remembering something about the car crash mentioned in the morning news tablet article.

"He's a detective that works with the DPD. I suggest we keep our distance."

"You're one of our people now, Markus," Carl softly reminded him as he turned his chair to properly face him.

"The revolution may be over, but you have plenty more to teach them. That is, assuming you still want to," he added with a prying tone of curiosity, tilting his head. Markus looked him in the eye, calculating the correct response.

"The battle is over, but do you really think the war has been won? They won't stop discriminating us just because we hold equal ground now. When has anything ever stopped with just one war?" Carl pursed his lips, frowning at him.

"You've made your statement, Markus. Now is your chance to prove your point. We should welcome him."

"We can't befriend everyone, Carl."

"Who knows, might be better company than the people at my parties, and it's not like we get any other interaction around here." Markus knew Carl well enough to know he was stubborn, and if he denied something he wanted, he usually wound up feeling guilty and questioning himself afterward; so, for now, he went along with the idea, even to his dismay. With his previous encounters against the police forces, he was reluctant, but also considered the fact that maybe it was _him_ being unfair, and it wouldn’t hurt Carl to make something of a friend.

“Sure. Maybe you’re right.”

-

"I thought Perkins had the FBI portion handled. Hell, I thought _forensics_ did-- what's he here for?"

"A continuation of the Cyberlife project," Fowler informed. Gavin narrowed his eyes.

"What are we, their experimental playground? How is this supposed to help us?"

"I figure it would help _you_ , considering your recent predicament. Might not hurt to make friends, now that you're _getting along_ with everyone better." His words were pointed, but Gavin didn't argue.

"Understood, Chief. Have a nice day."

-

The day was over, and Gavin spotted the new ‘arrival’ just beside his cruiser. Adjusting his tie, flattening his blazer lapels and ensuring his step had a spring to it, he walked forward, casting a less friendly gaze in his direction; he returned likewise.

“Excuse me,” Gavin began, “I need to get to my car.” The asshole was pretentious enough to flash him a coy smile, so he felt like he could do little more than show a mocking one in return.

“Actually, I’d like to have a word with you first, if you don’t mind.” Gavin resisted the urge to quirk an eyebrow, stepping forward with an assumptive gaze before stopping half a foot away with a shrug of his shoulders before he squared them and adjusted his posture to stand up straight, waiting.

“I know you never got punished for the ‘happenstance,’”, he enunciated with an airiness to his voice, “but murder _is_ a first-degree crime,” the blonde chimed with a chastising wag of his finger. Gavin stared deadpan, before crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“No one cares about that,” he stated with confidence.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What’s your name, anyway?” While he didn’t necessarily find Fowler’s advice as _useful,_ it couldn’t hurt to learn any more details he could meanwhile – especially if this guy was trying to threaten him with his own nonexistent criminal record.

“Peter Armillian Schwarz,” he stated with an accent thick enough to fit the bill. Gavin’s eyes remained steady and focused, as did his stature.

“Alright, and why do you bring up something like that? How do you know?” Peter tapped his cheek with a sly smile and a playful shrug, every motion nimble and _ostentatious_ in nature. He could break this kid like a twig if given the chance.

“Well, information passes easily between tight-knit communities,” he stated as if it were obvious fact, eyes locking with Gavin’s as he glared him down.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he retorted, his typical aggressive demeanor hopefully covering up the real, actual fear that he had over the ordeal. It was left alone for this long, so why open it up again now? _What did they find?_

“Not to you. But to us, who have resources, it means _plenty_. Now, I’ll let you get to your car,” the shorter, lithe male snipped before walking away with the same dainty posture he seemed to constantly strut. _Great_. As if things couldn’t get bad enough.

Sliding into the driver side door, he’d have slammed the door if they weren’t automatic, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in the glove compartment to light one up.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin runs into trouble in more than a few ways.

“Hank…” Connor shook his head

“The fact I haven’t been returned to Cyberlife already is confusing, but frightening in itself. Getting rid of the RK900 was a good thing, but I…” the sense of _anxiety_ surged through his wires as he looked down, trying to think, to figure something out for himself.

“I know, Connor. I know.” Hank’s tone was solemn, holding a more serious tone to it than usual.

“But there’s nothing we can do. The fact they haven’t taken you in yet is surprising. Maybe they feel bad for _me_ ,” he jested, but the quiet chuckle following was lackluster. Connor’s gaze flickered up to him, shimmering with a glint of hope in his eyes.

“Right. Well—sorry, I don’t mean it like that—but maybe, if I could just, prove there’s a reason for me to stay on the team…”

“Without giving away your deviancy? C’mon, Connor. I know you’re scared, but this is serious, and you can’t let those nasty _emotions_ get to you.” Connor nodded, taking a deep breath; he never liked when he got like this, antsy and restless, ready to spring at any given opportunity even if he didn’t know why, or in response to _what_. The sensation of looming dread, the lingering doom of being _decommissioned_ with all his memories, his _life_ being flushed down the drain was ultimately terrifying, and he felt as though the shadow was constantly chasing him, right on his tail.

“Okay,” Connor responded with a pause, but he still tapped a knee with his index finger impatiently while he tried to sort through the racing thoughts in his mind.

“Then my only chance would be to _really_ prove myself. Right? I’ve lasted this long, they _have_ to give me another try, if I just—”

“ **Connor**.” Hank snapped in a voice that reverberated around the room and into his microphones, immediately catching his attention.

“It’s not that easy, you and I both know it. If we can find a good reason to keep you around, _maybe_ I can wing the paperwork for it, but it’s going to take more convincing than a one-time feat. You’re outdated now, and I’ve kept you ‘round by the skin of my teeth, but…we’re really gonna have to push for this, and we’re gonna have to be _careful_ about it. If they see how _worried_ you are, you’re dead meat. …Er, metal.” He scratched the back of his head, before sighing with a defeated shrug. Connor looked at him with a halfhearted gaze, nodding timidly.

“And it’s gonna take more than just the two of us to prove it, I think. The more we have on your side, the bigger the chance we’ll get, but…” feeling defeated, he shifted his weight, curling one side of his lips back in one of his quirky, thoughtful expressions while he paused for a few seconds to think.

“I have no one else on my side,” Connor said in both seriousness and defeat.

“I know,” Hank repeated with a tone of voice that was harsher than he really meant.

“We gotta prove you’re worth sticking around to Fowler first, I think. If I can get him on my side, then maybe we can convince Cyberlife, but it won’t be easy.”

“Right. That’s a good idea,” Connor admitted, shifting his position as he slid off the seat he’d taken on the hospital's counter, a habit he’d picked up when he was thinking more about the situation than where he was going to sit down, and all the prim and proper behavioral programming clearly left his cognitive processing when he was focused on the matter at hand; this one in particular had been swarming him for weeks.

“Tomorrow, then. We’ll bring it up to him.” Hank nodded in response, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder with his best reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let ‘em get’cha. Been through too much to let’cha go now.”

Connor smiled, athough it was dim.

-

"The fact no one had seen that model before is suspicious, and implies it is unique in its make. A unique model implies an independent maker.”

“Which would mean someone besides Cyberlife made it. Either they have a rival, or an import."

“It wouldn’t be working on the team if it were a rival company. Maybe Cyberlife’s just trying for something new. They’re always trying to improve.”

“Good job at it, too. I say we try to get a hold of it, pick apart what we can.”

“Impossible. It’s state of the art, that new model. They started an entire new _series_ after the RK900 ruined its place.”

“Haha, oh yeah, I heard about that. Poor sucker, that Reed guy, huh?”

“Got what was comin’ to him and more.”

“Well, the best way to catch game is with a trap, right? Lead that foxy thing right into the den, and _bam_. It’s ours for the taking.”

“You’re right. I’ll set up the magnets, you’re better with the wiring, anyway.”

“Got it.”

-

"They'd found enough evidence to put you into custody while we wait for a decision. I'm disappointed, Reed," Fowler directed with a shake of his head.

 “Jason didn’t have a brother. There were no known relatives.” Gavin was well aware he had to watch his tongue for a precise number of reasons. Suddenly, the RK900’s _behavioral adjustments_ seemed to come in handy.

“What are you trying to say?” The frown lines creasing Jeffrey’s sour expression proved he had made that face many times before. Gavin gathered his patience, as was a newfound ability on its own, chewing his lower lip and swallowing down any _smart_ comments he might have in mind.

Awareness dawned on him that the situation wouldn’t be understood even if he told the truth, anyway.

“I’m trying to defend my fucking case, is what,” he said, leaning forward with his hands flat on Fowler’s desk. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat.

“Sorry. Listen, I know what it looks like, I know it looks _bad_. But it was years ago, the fucker attacked me first—”

“Then why don’t you plea for castle doctrine?” Gavin swallowed.

“Look,” Jeffrey continued, “It’s not my business. It’s your history. But it’s out of my hands. You’re getting a court case and you better hope they feel sorry for you.” Gavin pursed his lips, leaning up and away from the desk.

“You’re not firing me?” Fowler took a deep breath, flattening his hands on his own desk before he stood up; time for a break and to fetch more coffee, he decided. Turning to Gavin, he gave him a look that told him that while he was on thin ice, he was willing to look the other way when it came around to it.

“ _It’s out of my hands_ ,” he said as a forceful hint, and Gavin nodded once.

“Thanks, chief.”

-

"Well, did the man have it comin'?" Hank's opinion on matters like this were less than moral, but he couldn't let go of his interest. Gavin had been known to be a dangerous man, but to what extent, they'd had yet to see; he felt like this was barely peeking through the window blinds of perception as to what he'd been capable of.

"Damn right he did," Gavin snapped self-defensively the way he often did, 900's training cast aside for the sake of pure emotion overwhelming his thoughts.

"Hmmmmm." Arms folded despite his awkward positioning of laying on his back in the hospital bed, he cast Gavin a defensive glare, ultimately unsure how to feel, as it was difficult to determine with this kind of predicament. Part of him never wanted to see Gavin again, but he knew his ordeal was already difficult, and couldn't tell whether the best move would be to support or go against him; on one hand, Gavin had kept this to himself the entire time, from him as well as the rest of the team while the case was apparently left cold in the hands of other forces. On the other, he had _no idea_ what happened, and sometimes the rules of the law simply didn’t apply to a slippery situation such as this one. He knew his empathy was getting the better of him, and he had to be careful, as this was someone that had been on the team for _years_ , yet somehow this had slipped past all of them, hinting that Gavin did his damnedest to cover it up in the first place. Now that Gavin wasn't waving a pistol anymore, dressed well with better behavior outlining his progress, he felt safer, but now knowing Gavin had killed someone before they were even on the police force together was well beyond his emotional comprehension for the time being.

"You tell 'em what happened?" Gavin scowled with a dark gaze.

"'Course not." What was he supposed to do? Even if pleading guilty got him a lesser sentence, he was still walking on coals and the burn was incomparable.

"You can't avoid this forever." Gavin rolled his eyes in lieu of saying _I know._

"I'm going home. To fuck if they'll arrest me _now_. Seeya, Hank.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's counting down the time until he has to deal with his personal case, trying to keep his head level meanwhile.

"Fuck," he murmured to himself in a hushed, swift breath the way he often did.

"Fuck, I can't believe this shit, holy hell," he continued, pacing with his hands behind his head, eyes looking at the ground while he walked circles.

His dad was _definitely_ going to be livid. He didn't have a partner on the team anymore, which evidently diminished his chances at being an objectionable case. The DPD wasn't going to be on his side for long, and once word of this got out he was as good as dead meat.

He didn't know what to do. There was nothing he _could_ do.

-

Ripping open the box to look at the pieces of the chassis might not have been the smartest decision, but something buzzed in his mind as he pulled the face panel from the top and turned it around. Looking over the ports, bolts and other various pieces that composed the shell of its head, he paid no mind to the complicated connective process, eyeing over the electronic chips embedded into the shell that shaped the android's face, minus the eyes and internal skeleton nestled behind it, still in the box. All of the main biocomponents were there, but the entirety of the android body wasn't in the box; likely because it wouldn't fit without getting inconveniently bulky. What _was_ left behind was the old thirium pump, drained of the liquid that dissipated from the human eye's naked vision, now an empty, metal-framed plastic container with a pair of holes blown through the front and back of it. It looked simple on its own, clear and hollow compared to the morbid visage of when it was spilling the glistening liquid across the sidewalk. The way the android’s old chassis was now a strange puzzle of scattered parts was a different kind of unnerving, compared to the fact it _seemed_ like a living, breathing human being only days ago.

Shifting the pieces to look around more, he was startled to catch sight of the hands; white and metallic, with the strength that crushed his throat, and shoved him, and cut him, and everything else that wasn't with those arms in particular, but the ones after. The new, resurrected RK900 that returned once more, but with malicious intentions and a vendetta, the next in line of RK serial numbers that destroyed his furniture and soon enough might have entirely ripped him apart, too.

It was over now. It was gone and done with. Gavin knew he should be, too, listening to the strange creak of metallic joints as he prodded the fingers of one of the hands, admiring how deceptively limp the appendages were, how _easy_ it was to shift the device in his hands, interlinking his own fleshy, calloused fingers with the clunky form of its original plastic ones, small panels intricately shaped and placed together to create joints and knuckles with the texture of artificial tendons running above the original plastic that would be washed over by the illusion of its ‘skin’.

This was hard-wired proof that the machine was nothing but that, no matter how _human_ it seemed in their interactions from days, weeks, and months before. It was fascinating, in a way, how the human psyche digested things differently solely on appearance; a factor Elijah Kamski clearly took into consideration, considering they had functions to reveal or recede the human-mimicking tone of flesh, leaving them a bald, plastic chassis with eyes much too glossy and realistic, always popping out in contrast to the other inorganic features and structure. It was mortifying to think about how well it had _taught_ and _trained_ and _disciplined_ him into treating it like a human, _just as it wanted_. Weren’t those already tell-tale signs of deviancy? Gavin supposed it didn’t matter, considering the tests were over, Cyberlife supposedly found the answer and the RK900 was _gone._

That meant these hunks of useless machinery were as good as garbage, he figured, coming to terms with the fact they really _were_ only there to scare him. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, then out with a flare of his nostrils, he tossed the pieces back in the box, and slammed the lid back on with the thought of how much it might weigh and how far he’d have to carry it to the nearest dumpster. Would that be suspicious? In all reality, he didn’t know how often commonplace people threw out their androids, and the _last_ thing he needed was to attract more attention.

-

Going home to Sumo laying on the couch was much more comforting than seeing the RK900 waiting there, staring at him expectantly; the dog lifted his massive head with an attentive whine, wagging his tail, and Gavin lifted his eyebrows to offer him a tired expression while he peeled off his nice coat to hang up on the nearby rack.

“Look at you. Getting to lay around here all day, doing nothing,” he murmured, but his voice was fairly playful, even though it was lethargic. Sitting down and leaning back into the comfort of the new couch cushions, he welcomed Sumo with open arms as the dog plodded heavy paws onto his legs, making him chuckle at the force of the St. Bernard’s weight as he settled to lay his head down on his lap. Generally, he’d consider it too early to sleep, but seeing as he clearly wasn’t getting up to make dinner anytime soon, he figured he’d make himself comfortable, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV to shuffle through the channels in an attempt to find something to watch.

Coming home without the sense of danger throughout his house was something he’d began to appreciate, even if the only reason he _had_ a house in the first place was because of the RK900’s affinity for ‘gifts.’ Large, unnervingly expensive, long-term ‘presents’ that were supposed to aid him in the long run, but for what? Sighing, he leaned his head back, absent-mindedly running his hands through the big dog’s thick fur, closing his eyes as he let his mind run rampant with ideas, memories, and the thoughts for his future. As it was clear he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, he decided it was best to rest where he was for now.

-

“Yeah, I tossed the damn thing out, finally,” he said with a lighter tone to his voice, sounding relieved.

“Good. I can’t imagine what good it was doing for you, sitting around in the garage,” Tina responded with a bit more harshness than intended; but with the knowledge the ‘souvenir’ was continuing to destroy his psyche, she felt a bias over the fact it should have been thrown out since the night _she_ unwrapped the box, expecting literally anything but the blank face she’d discovered first thing upon opening it. Gavin remembered panicking, scrambling to apologize as they ended the night early and she headed home, deciding _that_ was a bit much and not talking to him for a couple weeks thereafter. As he was afraid to lose the only person resembling a friend he seemed to have, he didn’t take any action to bother her, simply hoping she’d contact him again; and feeling all the more relieved when she did.

“I dunno,” he admitted as he was at a loss for words.

“I thought if I kept it there, I could contain it somehow. But I can’t contain something imaginary. Should have thrown it out the night you were at my place,” he stated with a sigh, rubbing the creases in his forehead with his index finger and thumb, elbow to the break room table as he glared at his partial portrait staring back at him from the white surface, staring it down in a reflection of self-loathing.

“It’s still messing you up?” Her voice sounded callous, but he didn’t blame her for not knowing better.

“It never stopped,” he snapped in a voice that sliced through the air with its bite. She paused.

“Have you met the new guy yet?” A swift subject change ought to help them both feel better, she figured.

“Huh? Sure,” he said with a nod to himself, knitting his brows as he thought back to the _annoyance_ that was supposedly the new aid for the team.

“I can already tell he’s gonna be a pain in the ass.”

“I think he already is,” she agreed.

“The FBI are already snakes, and Perkins is…well, who he is,” she expressed without so many words. Gavin made a disgusted noise, shaking his head to himself.

“Tell me about it. At least Perkins only shows up when he’s needed. I have a feeling this kid’s gonna be a lot _nosier_.” She paused.

"So...how are you holding up? With it being gone, I mean." Gavin's lips twitched back in a grimace, and he sighed.

"Okay, I guess. It doesn't feel real. Followed me everywhere, from work to bed and back again." Her gaze dimmed uncomfortably.

"Well, you've invited me over to your place, why don't you come to my house? A change of scenery often helps." Blinking with his usual dumbfounded stare of disbelief, Gavin paused, before nodding.

“Yeah, alright. That doesn’t sound so bad.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New neighbors meet and break the ice.

“So, how long have you been a detective? You must work hard at your job,” Carl commented with politeness, speaking between bites of food as he sat across from his new company with Markus settled beside him, who offered a slight smile, hands folded in his lap with his usual demeanor of keeping to himself unless otherwise prompted. Gavin tried not to think too hard about his presence, despite the fact his discomfort with androids had evidently increased, trying to ease his own tension of what position he was in.

“Yeah. Been on the force for seven years, after getting my master’s degree,” he responded with a boast of pride. Carl’s eyebrows raised with a newfound sense of surprise and awe, leaning back in his wheelchair before taking a sip of his scotch. Gavin mimicked likewise with his own double glass, figuring he’d take advantage of the drinks while he was within such _elaborate_  company.

“I see. A lot of training, then?” Gavin nodded.

“Working my way up the ladder, just like everybody else,” he reiterated, eyeing Markus, who glanced back at him with a gaze that made him further absorb his own apprehension of being across the table from the revolutionary leader, _him_ self, yet the sense of intimidation seemed inherently different than what he felt in the presence of the RK900. Maybe it was the lack of an LED, making Markus blend in with the humans – a personal mockery, in his opinion -- as most deviants intended on doing. Or maybe it was in the way his gaze held a strangely tender understanding that was unaccustomed to most androids he’d seen and worked with. The serious expression perched upon Markus’ face made him feel on edge; but such was the demeanor of someone who’d been through war with his own history of violence, however short, he presumed.

“I assume you want to become Chief one day, then?” Gavin smiled more genuinely than he had in a _long_ while, nodding again as his reanimated body language showed how work was one of his few favored subjects.

“Yep. Got a long way to go, but hopefully soon enough. Fowler and Anderson need the retirement anyway,” he said lightly with more respect for his higher-ups than he usually felt, despite the fact he was aware that they might be treating him better with the rise of sympathy to his situation in particular. Of course they only cared once he was being nice _and_  abused, but he dismissed the thought as it wasn’t the time to dwell on matters that were best left on the backburner for now. Markus remained respectfully listening to their exchange, eyes occasionally drifting between the two of them.

“Well, if I can say anything from my years of experience, I don’t blame them,” Carl responded, contemplating how tiring painting became once it was an expectation more than a hobby. The physical endurance needed for a job such as police training was a long-lost thought in his aged mind.

“So you investigate homicides, you said?” Markus visibly grew uneasy, eyes narrowing in Gavin’s direction, who took another wary sip of scotch.

“Yeah,” he confirmed through a voice quieter than before, returning his attention to his meal as he jabbed his fork into another portion of basted chicken.

“Lieutenant, too. It’s a bit gruesome, but there’s always death, and where there’s death, there’s a murderer, and that means there’s always crime,” he explained through the motions rather quickly.

“I do my best to keep the city safe,” he stated humbly, even if he didn’t entirely feel dignified over the matter. Sure, he’d done his best, but his work wasn’t quite like it had been in the old days.

“What about you, then? You’re quite the exquisite painter,” Gavin praised in learned words of flattery, maintaining a ghost of a smile while his eyes occasionally lingered along the expanse of the mansion, vision drifting across the walls of decorations from statues and embroidery to the anticipated paint-and-canvas art that still smelled fresh, to crystal chandeliers glistening the same way the skulls made of gold with the occasionally encrusted chiseled diamonds did. It would have been difficult for him to understand living a life of luxury if he hadn’t been given the house, funds and a plethora of his own tools alongside personal goods, and even then it was still brand new to him. The idea of working hard with a natural talent until it got you in a position like the one Carl was in fascinated him, and he bit down his personal distaste for the rich in spite of his company.

“Sure, you could say I’ve made something of my image over the years…self-portraits or otherwise,” he said in jest, and Gavin flashed him a halfhearted smile of appreciation. Becoming wealthy with talent and his own hard work only to end up in the lonely, sickly position he was in made the entirety of the situation rather bizarre, in his mind, as the scales to no longer seem so balanced.

“Guess I’m more left-brained. I could never put together something like that,” he responded, but Carl was fast to catch his gaze with a cold pair of pale, tired blue eyes, demanding enough to shift his attention.

“Now, don’t say you can’t do anything, detective Reed,” Carl encouraged him in a sage, bold tone. Gavin’s eyebrows raised with surprise in response to the sentiment while he paused to consider the meaning of what Carl said as well as why, exactly, he’d said it.

“That’s nice of you to say,” he said in resonance of his own personal opinion, but his doubt was clear. Part of him felt proud for continuing to use his polite mannerisms, charming traits and expanded vocabulary, but the forced habit likely wouldn’t leave him for a while, he figured; Nines had embedded it well enough that by now it didn’t take much _thinking_  at all.

“But I know exactly where my capabilities lie, and how far they extend.” Intricate words always felt bitter on his tongue, however; no matter how precisely he phrased his thoughts, they were still a reminder that the RK900’s teachings would never entirely go away as far as he could tell, whether he wanted to escape the past four months or otherwise.

“I have multiple, reasonable limitations, and I know that. I’m sure you do too.”

Carl opened his mouth as if to speak, before leaning back to think about the statement previously filling the air, but found few phrases that would outmatch the truth that left Gavin’s lips. After a moment, he exhaled, nodding once to confirm that he was still listening.

“Of course I do, and I wasn’t being so literal. Our situations are different,” Carl continued, grateful to find an intelligent exchange between human beings for the first time in a while.

“You have plenty of time ahead of you. Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?”

 _That_  question struck Gavin hard enough to freeze him in place, nearly dropping his fork before he quickly caught himself, staring blankly at the dishware before him; a clear giveaway for Carl, but he avoided commentary for the sake of Gavin’s dignity.

Gavin loved his job from day one, but in later years, he’d began to question whether it was really about _him_  or the fact he was shadowing in his father’s footsteps – the original reason he contemplated being on the force in the first place, an awareness he kept tight hold of no matter how much schooling and work he’d piled up since his younger years.

“Of course it is,” he was swift to retort, although dimly and he notably stopped eating as the thought struck him deep within his chest. Carl took the moment of awkward silence thereafter to finish his meal, wiping his mouth and cheeks with a folded napkin while Markus’ vision returned from the window to look at the two of them, mostly centered on Carl so as not to make Gavin more uncomfortable.

“Anyway, it’s what I’m best at,” he stated, _feeling_  the eyes of differing opinions casting his way.

“That’s an opinion, not an obligation,” Carl offered in a somewhat softer, yet still stern tone, watching Gavin for his reactions.

“Is that a joke?” The smile he wore was less friendly than the last, brimming with sarcasm.

“It’s a _huge_ obligation”, he responded with a touch of snide to his voice, causing Carl to adjust in a moment of surprise. Within the past hour of their interactions, he noted many times that Gavin seemed to take offense rather quickly, while keeping in mind as to the fact his job was clearly _very_  important to him, perhaps leading onto the reason he was so dissuaded.

“You have an android on the team, don’t you?” The subject change was abrupt and immediately noticed as Markus and Gavin exchanged glances with unintentional surprise, and Gavin dismissed the malice behind his glower to adjust his posture, gently pushing forth his plate to signal he was finished with the meal and downing the rest of his scotch in one go.

“Yeah, sure we do.” Gavin’s voice was wary, along with his leering gaze as he turned his head thoughtfully, filing through a million possibilities in his head as to why Carl might be asking such a thing.

“Connor works with the Lieutenant,” Gavin mouthed slowly, noting the way his inebriation effected the smooth, flowing tone of his speech, something he’d never found himself bothered by before. He dismissed the thought as soon as it visited him.

“I don’t know what they call the new one,” he said aloud, thinking back to the _brand new_  android stalking around behind Peter, “but she’s only been around for, well, a few days now.” Carl’s expression shifted knowingly, but he simply nudged aside his empty glass as he glanced over to Markus.

“Would you do me a favor, and clean this area up?” With his and Markus’ gaze drifting to meet each other’s, he smiled, though barely enough Gavin picked up on the subtle creases of the lines in his cheeks; frown lines were a telltale sign of what someone had gone through in their older years, and Carl was definitely a man that resonated an aura of the wisdom he’d gained throughout the decades, likely a few more than he’d experienced so far if he could guess by how old he looked, alone. He knew the certain sort of hurt in Markus’ eyes, one that withheld the fear of losing someone close, and _soon_ , making it easy to avoid asking about such a simple thing as someone’s age with the knowledge that the information would be traded if Manfred so felt the desire.

“Of course,” Markus obliged kindly as he reached to begin collecting dishes, and Gavin helped himself to another drink before he could get to the decanter, cuing Carl’s vision to return to him.

“Do you live in that house by yourself?” Gavin’s expression didn’t waver, but he nodded.

“Er, yeah. Just bought it,” he responded with the knowledge his _perfect sentences_  were slipping.

“I guess it’s a bit much for one person, but what can I say? I like my space,” he lied blatantly, swigging down more liquor and wiping his mouth; Carl silently acknowledged that he’d started drinking as if they were taking shots at a bar rather than conversing over a meal, and Markus didn’t have to catch his judgmental gaze to know what he was thinking, reaching to remove the half-full glass bottle in his work of cleaning the table.

“’Sides, I’ve got my friend’s dog and the whole city of Detroit at my hands, livin’ in a nice, big house. I don’t have anything to lose.” _Without RK900 in my way,_ he thought to himself, absentmindedly staring in Markus’ direction as he watched him clean, silently pondering over the thoughts of an android so willing to follow through with commands; not only listening to your conversations, but hearing out your opinion for what it was. Maybe that was why RK900 was never given a name, he wondered. Maybe it wasn’t meant to seem _human_ at all. Once Cyberlife discovered its own version of emotional behavior, they’d taken it back and replaced it, but androids like the one shuffling around his peripheral vision were different; not a designated deviant he could destroy and get rid of, and not a member of the team that would pry into his personal life, but a bystander of someone that Carl considered close and one of the most well-known androids out there. The thought of treating an android like a friend and partner was never a realistic consideration for him until his months spent with his abuser, and he wondered if it was realistic to assume every android had an inevitability to _snap._ The few times he seemed able to admit confusion and even slight distress from RK900, it seemed hasty to dismiss such ‘attitudes’ and return with something worse, making him assume it was also an environmental factor and therefor leaving himself to blame; not that he’d ever admit it was his fault for treating it like shit in the first place.

Carl seemed impressed by the way Gavin relished in everything he seemed to own, whether it was secondhand or otherwise, taking on his position in his career as well as his life with a demeanor he could only think of as _stubborn_ as well as headstrong _._ He supposed it fit such a man to hold the authority he had in its position of entitlement, leaving Carl curious, but assumptive of the fact most men of that age acted such a way these days with the awareness that he was no exception in his own youth. The way men were raised full of toxic masculinity shined bright and clear to him from Gavin’s perspective, but he didn’t want to take too much from first impressions, no matter the company or situation.

The way the younger man’s brows lowered in an angry shadow over ashen eyes and even his smiles seemed to resemble a permanent scowl gave Carl an uneasy feeling, even though he knew that one of many points from the police force was to come across as intimidating, and Gavin wore the stigma well. A strong jawline but soft cheeks, framing a narrow, scarred nose and thin lips leading down to a definitely muscular stature embedded beneath his nice dress-wear gave the impression that Gavin was a hardened character with more riches than he knew what to do with, thus implying the collection must have been recent. Drinking problems were also common in hard-working men that had seen many grim days, although the disease of alcoholism didn't discriminate, he knew full and well.

"How long have you been drinking for?" If it weren't for the scent already on Gavin's breath upon arrival, he wouldn't have bothered questioning. Visibly caught off-guard, Gavin's expression fell as the sensation of being called out on one’s vices was never a good one. With his eyes drifting to where the decanter _was,_ he slowly leaned back in the chair with tense hands clenched at his sides so he wouldn't drum his fingers on the nice, polished wood, likely more valuable than the thousands of dollars in his pocket at the time.

“What’s it to you?” The defensive attitude nearly came as a surprise to Carl, noting how abruptly Gavin became defensive over the matter and mentally noting not to further agitate him, if he could help it. Adjusting his posture to lower his shoulders and soften his expression, Carl made it evident he wasn’t looking to pry, let alone start some kind of argument, pale blue eyes resonating the soulful curiosity that followed him through his nights and days. With every person there was always more to learn, and in this past hour, he’d barely caught a glimpse of the being that was _Gavin Reed._

“Well, if it helps to talk a bit about myself, I’ve spent my fair share of years of dabbling with harmful substances, and my only son still struggles with the inherited end of the fact. I simply wondered how long you’ve been dealing with it,” he explained gently, and Gavin subconsciously responded in kind, slouching as he let the tension fall from his body. He hadn’t felt as though he was _that_  obvious with his drinking, but also acknowledged that swigging down twice as many tumblers of scotch was still a clear giveaway, as well as a hint that he, himself, hadn’t paid so much attention to how bad the habit had gotten. The realization was as grim as the sneer across his face.

Taking in the fact Gavin wasn’t exactly being as friendly as he had been from the beginning of their conversation, Carl kept in mind that he wouldn’t be in danger within the confines of his own home, between a cop and Markus, who’s gaze still lingered from afar even as he washed the dishes in the other room.

“It’d be better for you in the long run if you do something about it now.”

An uncomfortable part of Gavin stirred within himself while he mulled over the words, what they meant, and the fact the person speaking them had a fair number of years over his own. With bookshelf walls towering with novels both classic and unknown to him, the manner of which Carl spoke along with his general demeanor, he could tell he was a person that took himself rather seriously and, by extension, those that interacted with him. What was he doing here, talking to an old man about the trials and tribulations of ordinary life, anyway? _Nothing better to do_ , he figured, momentarily hoping Sumo hadn’t gotten to his shoes again in a fit of boredom, followed by the reminder that he could easily replace the pair if need be with the money still untouched in his pocket. Maybe that was the most terrifying aspect of all, as having so much at his fingertips it felt surreal, as if it could slip away at any given moment.

“I see. You wanna get personal, huh?” Gavin resisted the urge to fold his arms across his chest as old habits dared try to resurface, huffing a subtle scoff through angrily flaring nostrils.

“I’ve just seen _my_ fair share of shit on the force, ‘n’ the job isn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows nowadays.” Confidence rose within him as he reminisced how good it felt to speak in lazy, shortened sentences, to _swear freely_  again. For the first time in months, he didn’t feel the imaginary sensation of Nines looming over his shoulder, shadowing him, watching closely and listening to everything that he did. In this mansion, with this stranger and his android, he was unbound from the psychological confines that was the RK900 and what it represented. The therapist told him he’d gradually ease out of the trauma over the span of the next few months, but the deep emotional scarring would remain for life – yet it was up to Gavin how long he let it burden him, and how heavily. Remembering he’d left his medication at home, he cleared his throat in a signal to himself as well as his company that he’d intended to be a bit more polite after that particular verbal bite.

Within the plethora of learned behaviors from the android, potentially the most twisted irony of it all was it all _worked_ , particularly in his favor. No one questioned a well-dressed, charismatic male of pale skin and styled hair, stormy eyes that loomed over his targets from across the room, and it was a position he’d have never imagined himself in. Deep in his conscience, he still harbored a heavy amount of guilt for what he’d done, the imagery of the android’s destroyed face palette still fresh in his mind.

It was over. _It_ was gone, and he could get on with his life. It didn’t mean he had to drink his way to the bottom of a bottle, but what else was there to do?

“I apologize, that was uncalled for. It’s been an unpleasant few months, the promotion’s weighin’ heavy and I’m tired,” he stated all in one breath, tipping Carl onto the fact he was hiding something important. Nonetheless, he didn’t expect first introductions to get _too_  deep, content with the fact Gavin was speaking truth to his problem at all; a surefire sign that bringing up the subject was potentially a right move, despite how left field yet direct the introduction of the topic was.

“Promotion?” Skirting around a sensitive topic never hurt as long as he remained on track, Carl mused.

“Yeah, well, sorta. Pay raise, more paperwork, but I don’t think I can get anything better than that ‘til next year.” The caffeine withdrawal was starting to kick in, he noted by the ache starting to throb in the back of his head. Carl nodded in understanding, and Markus left the kitchen once the chores were done on the invisible cue to go upstairs and busy himself with a something else, aware his presence alone created an uncomfortable shift in the room that none of them seemed keen on dealing with for the time being.

“That’s a lot of pressure you have ahead of you,” Carl commented in a relaxed voice, allowing Gavin the moment he seemed to need in digesting the comment. It was easy to see why this man was a good detective, with the way his eyes searched for every interactive detail, as Carl could _feel_  them scanning his eyes and his expressions with each response, likely searching for any unconscious body language giveaways or even subtle cues of trickery as Carl imagined he’d have reason to be wary of anyone he’d met, ill-intended or otherwise.

Gavin paused, as he hadn’t thought of it that way. Every promotion, raise or other celebration of his well-doing was automatically a good thing, in his head. The thought that he might have been conditioned to think so had crossed his mind before, but he could never make sense out of it. In his younger days, he wanted nothing more than to rule the entire department, but knowing now all of the stress of an entire team compounded and falling onto one person, he could tell why Fowler was so overloaded and stressed all the time.

 _ **Chief**_ _._ He imagined the title, on the piece of paper declaring his advancement, on the placard by what would be _his_  desk in the center of the department, left alone to stare at screen and flip through the digital documents all day long. Being bothered by everyone on the team, yet put on a pedestal for being the highest-ranking officer.

He imagined the look on his father’s face, and snapped back to reality as he realized he was staring into the distance again.

“Yeah, it is,” he responded, though his voice was low and less energetic than earlier.

"A few weeks," Gavin finally answered the original question, vague so as to negate further sharing his personal life.

"I dunno. Started going through six packs, then pints. Sure you know how it goes.” Carl's expression grew tired as the energy it took to converse with company wore faster than it had in his youth, and Gavin felt the same.

"Well, it's still early. Nip it in the bud now and you might be able to beat the consequences before they catch up to you." Speaking with a sickly old man wasn't exactly how Gavin expected to spend the evening, let alone talking about his _vices_ , but so be it.

"Uh, yeah, sure, if I cared about that," Gavin retorted, and for a moment Carl saw his son in one of his many moments of rebellion.

"Well, you should," Carl responded in kind, less polite than before. Gavin's eyelids grew heavy as he let his posture slouch, staring at Carl with the same bored gaze he would anyone _else_ wasting his time.

"If you don't look after your health, who will?"

 _Health._ The concept of caring about what garbage he put into his own body that was going to be rotting with the rest of them by the end was laughable to him, evident by the smarmy smirk darkening the light creases on his own face.

"The maggots won't care how nutritious I am, I don't see why I should." Carl's eyebrows raised in surprise, and concern glossed over his eyes as he accepted the idea of someone talking about their own death less than midway through their life. Again, he understood, but could tell Gavin wanted nothing of his sympathy.

"Because it doesn't feel good vomiting off a hangover after waking up on the ground day after day, does it?"

Paranoia kicked Gavin in the back of his mind, worsening the developing headache as his subconscious focused on the fact Carl must have known that much about him, as opposed to speaking from personal experience, an issue he’d had more often as of late. It obviously wasn’t true, as he’d never met this man before in his life, and only moved into the house across the street and to the left a week and a half ago, but paranoia was _always_ irrational. Huffing, he raised his shoulders with an aggressive half-shrug, finally crossing his arms over his chest and an ankle over one knee as he leaned back in his chair, obviously letting go of his recently developed prim-and-proper nature in favor of his emotions cognitively taking over instead. It was nice to fall back on old habits again, especially without being chastised and _degraded_ for it. Carl took notice, but per usual, said nothing.

“That’s not a disagreement,” the older man chimed with a slight smile, figuring he might as well try to keep the situation light with the awareness he was the one to bring up a topic that was not only personal, but touchy in a way that _no one_ liked to talk about from a personal perspective. Gavin’s expression soured, but Carl held faith in the fact he hadn’t argued or even gotten up to leave for the time being.

Gavin easily picked up on his attempt to make the topic lighter than it really was, but he didn’t appreciate being _babied_  over the matter, and it showed in the curl of skin around his lips as he snarled.

“You want a conversation? Talk about something else,” Gavin hissed, and it was a quick warning to back off that Carl easily obliged, as the last thing he wanted was to make his company _hostile_ , let alone within his own home, whether it was a cop and he had a long-trusted android at his side or not. First and foremost came his safety, and he had a feeling Gavin felt that exact inclination clearer than he personally realized.

“Alright,” Carl complied easily.

“Would you like to pick a subject?”

A combination of putting him on the spot and letting him guide the conversation, Gavin took the offer for exactly what it was, quirking an eyebrow with an entertained chuckle as he contemplated the offer.

“Yeah, guess I do,” he spouted in one breath, letting the rest go in a slow sigh. Intrigued, Carl tilted his head with a crease of knit skin above his eyes that indicated his confusion. Gavin didn’t feel any more inclined to delve into the issue, but the curiosity was nagging at him from the beginning, so in his mind, it was now or never.

Speaking about it, however, was much more difficult as his mind scrambled for the right combination of words. _Your android_ wasn’t exactly politically correct in the situation he was in. _Markus_ was too vague and non-descriptive. Anything else regarding his position as _revolutionary leader_ was too pompous, and he definitely wasn’t going for that.

What did he want to mention in the first place?

“How long has he lived with you?” This time, the words were much more carefully framed, something Carl noted and appreciated.

“Long enough I should question why you’re asking.” His deflection caught Gavin off guard, and now he knew the feeling of dread from bringing up the elephant in the room _first._

“I had one,” he said airily, but it lacked substance, as they both knew. Carl was only somewhat aware of the more advanced models, the _latest_ RK series – something that he’d held discomfort with since hearing about the lineage continuing, but accepted he could do nothing about, considering them as numbers in a system and nothing else.

“Did you?” Gavin accepted the rhetoric.

“No, of course not,” he spat, “but the government assigned me one.” _That_ was a turn of phrase that caught Carl unprepared, formed from a working field and governmental position of which he was aware of, but not to the point of personal experience like his company had. He could only imagine the difference between an android made by many people under one mindset versus his comrade that had been designed uniquely for himself specifically, as far as he knew.

“Let me guess,” Carl lead on with enough emphasis to garner the attention he wanted, “you weren’t keen on the idea of a computer doing the work for you?”

Carl was keen, Gavin noticed, and it was up to him to keep his wit up to match if he wanted to keep an image of himself. Reputation may not matter for an old man, but Gavin kept his image the best he could, _particularly_ now that he’d moved up in the social circle; it was all he had for himself now, he figured. It was easy to tell that the wiser of the two caught on, however.

“I didn’t care about that,” Gavin stated simply, unaware of how much the past tense gave away. Naturally, Carl caught on.

“Didn’t?” This time, Gavin looked confused, crinkling his lips and scrunching his nose up to his forehead crinkles, before he let out a pitiless laugh that Carl didn’t quite like.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? The RK line is shut down now. They replaced it entirely.”

Carl paused.

Gavin smiled, as wry and shallow as it was.

“Didn’t find what they wanted, so they’re trying something better.” While Gavin revisited the pretentious image that was Peter and his own _new_ android, he reveled in the look of surprise that Carl granted him, a signal that maybe the old man didn’t know everything after all.

“Isn’t that a worse outcome for you?” Gavin pursed his lips in stunned silence.

“Yeah,” Gavin admitted. Carl showed his confusion through his facial expression, wrinkles further defined as he frowned at the thought. Frustrated, Gavin shifted to lean forward, planting one hand flat on the _fine_  dining table, making a point to capture attention before he spoke.

“They turned your precious android into a series of…” he couldn’t say _robots_ , but the idea made him snort out loud, even if it was confusing to his current company. Carl glowered at the words emitting from his mouth, but Gavin lifted the open-palmed hand in a gesture that expressed he wasn’t done as well as the idea the subject _wasn’t that serious,_  quite literally waving it off.

“Oppressed people forced beneath America’s capitalist propaganda? Oh, I know,” Carl responded gratuitously, and Gavin’s cocky look was quick to drop as for a moment, it was almost as if the words were taken from him before he could speak them, let alone phrase them for the situation that was actually going on rather than the assumptions and theories riddling Gavin’s mind in a constant cycle. Suddenly his position, in the work field as well as the physical placement within Carl’s home, didn’t feel so great.

“Elijah kept many things from me. I would not call them secrets, as there were no means to hide such a thing,” Carl explained, and for the time being, Gavin listened.

“But while the later models were meant to be improved for a multitude of reasons, Markus still holds many attributes that pay off. Otherwise America wouldn’t be designing androids to fight him and his ilk, hm?” Gavin swallowed down the sick feeling in his stomach, and Carl felt a pain in his chest that was merely somewhat medically related as rethinking over the predicament further stressed him.

Gavin swallowed.

“You think the DPD androids were built to fight yours?”

“This isn’t transformers,” Carl quipped, impatient with the childish way this person seemed to look at androids as a whole, as if they were simple computers, tools, _toys_. While he knew it was often the case with _amateurs_ handling them, and aware some people were straight up ignorant, he had no reason to believe this fully functional adult male couldn’t manage an android on his own, despite his personal hang-ups. Gavin offered a shrug with a nigh on friendly expression, as if to say he couldn’t quite disagree over the fact, even if he wanted to argue the comparisons in a fleeting thought.

“I think your androids are utilized to try and undo the damage that the more dangerous population of awoken androids have caused.”

 _Your androids_. Gavin could tell the phrasing was intentional, but wasn't sure what Carl meant by it; naturally for him, words like that seemed vindictive, but he reminded himself to think twice over anything he heard, even if the idea initially came from the RK900. As much as he hated it, the model was full of its own wisdoms, some of which made sense even to him.

"They're not mine," he stated sharply, but Carl's demeanor remained firm.

"They're on your side. You work with them, don't you?" The shocked look in Gavin's eyes told him enough, and the detective realized exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

"Not by choice," he quipped, but both of them knew how heavily the words really weighed. Carl acknowledged the fact, aware he only knew tidbits of what government androids were assigned to do, let alone what they were _capable of._

"But you choose to continue working with them."

The pang in Gavin’s heart was heavy and sudden, the reminder of his ex 'partner' kickstarting his heartbeat into its usual tripled rate as it seemed to every time his anxiety started acting up.

 _Choose._ The concept escaped him. The idea that it was _his_ decision all along was offensive, but mostly baffling; Carl took note of his confused expression, leaning back in his seat with an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Sorry, it was wrong of me to assume," he apologized, cuing Gavin to settle.

"I don't know the police force, what they do, or how they work when it comes to androids at all. I suppose I'm biased by extension," he continued, a reminder to Gavin that Markus, _himself_ was right upstairs, potentially listening to every word _just as a typical RK model would_.

"They've hurt my..." pausing, Carl sighed with the acknowledgement that using friendly terms likely wouldn't go over well with someone that clearly disliked them. Intertwining his fingers on the table, he leaned forward, catching Gavin's gaze while he could.

"I am aware of his weakness against new and more advanced technology," he stated more clearly with a sorrow in his eyes the other man could nearly pinpoint. Whatever it was, Gavin had felt it before.

"So I know that him and his crew don't stand much of a chance in comparison." Gavin curled his fingers into his fist to pound against his chest a few times, as if to swallow down the uncomfortable lump in his throat that sunk a weight in his chest and dropped to his stomach. Carl, acknowledging that look but unaware of where it came from, remained poised while they interacted.

"Do you feel guilty for what your co-workers, human or otherwise, have done?"

The upcoming court date flashed into Gavin’s mind; February 10th, barely skipping the 9th in a way that made him no more comfortable as there were still 28 other dates it could have landed on. Carl gave him the time to consider his response, which he took, staring at the old man like he'd gone off the rails.

"You wouldn't understand," he stated gruffly with a glare to match. Carl took a deep breath, straightening his posture.

"Maybe not. Want to tell me anyway?" Carl had no idea if Gavin had anyone to talk to or not, but that didn't matter, as they were there right then and he'd grown to take advantage of any situation he could. It wasn't sinister, even if Gavin thought otherwise since the conversation had been heavy from the start, but somehow he didn't regret the fact.

"Why would I?" There was the defensiveness again, they both noted.

"Well, why not? I won't be telling anyone." Gavin squinted with a heavy exhale, wondering if he should actually divulge what he'd been thinking all this time. It wasn't as if he could admit _his android_ made him its bitch, after all.

"They're stronger than us," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Of course they were, but intuition told Carl there was more to it than that. Gavin stiffened.

"They can kill us. They _have._ " Carl didn't waver.

"So can humans."

"I know that," Gavin spat with a glare, before glancing away as if to redact his harsh words.

"I've seen plenty of murderers, okay? Androids aren't any different. Get pissed, lose their shit, lash out..."

"So you admit they're similar?" Gavin scoffed.

"Yeah. More than I like."

"Why's that?" Gavin's eyes stared into Carl's.

"We have enough murderers," he stated bluntly.

"There's too many people already, now a portion of them are made of dangerous materials and ready to slaughter us. Cyberlife's not fucking around," he stated dimly, remembering the cruel, presumptuous gaze of the RK900 as if it were still right there beside him.

"We already have wars, now the androids do, too. Against each other _and_ us. You can't really be on one side without being against the other." Gavin felt confident in his words, even as he saw Carl's expression stiffen as if he didn't expect a topic like _this_ to come up for the evening, but it felt nice to vent in a world where few people listened to him.

"That's hardly true. This isn't a two-sided ordeal. You think too much in black and white for such a good detective," he stated with a touch of flattery, not minding the darkening scowl on Reed's face - he sought to prove a point, and maybe teach the younger man something in the process.

“It isn’t androids against humans when there are androids on our side as well. All they want is freedom, a sense of peace. Can you blame them for that?” Carl didn’t want to go into detail about how they were _oppressed_ , trying to get the point across as directly as he could.

Gavin felt unsettled. Imagining the RK900 wanting _peace_ was a farfetched enough thought he would laugh at it if he were in a better mood. Sure, androids wanted some form of _free-thinking_ , but he could never imagine them all searching for _peace_. Not with how many gruesome incidents he’d seen involving them, even if the ones he’d come across were somehow special cases. No one knew enough about them overall to make a clear decision, and he disliked the way Carl acted as though he knew them best. Then again, he was given one straight from Kamski, himself, cluing him in on the fact maybe Carl had more of an idea as to what was going on than he initially wanted to believe.

“There is no peace in this world,” Gavin struck with animosity in his tone that gave away a clue as to what might have happened.

“Your android partners…They don’t listen to you?” A genuine question asked with a lighthearted tone, blue eyes softening as the slightest tilt of Carl’s head indicated his inquisitiveness.

“What? Of course they do,” Gavin responded, both to save face as well as to avoid admitting the fact that a certain android _didn’t._

“Then what is it you’re frustrated about, Mr. Reed?”

Gavin fell silent once more, indicating he was considering the question and most of all, how to respond to it, alongside how much truth he wanted to indulge in the matter. It seemed to be the most difficult subject to converse over since day one, even as it stretched along the grapevine that was Detroit’s population, a hint that fact and rumor alike spread faster than he thought throughout the DPD, causing him to worry that Carl might do the same despite how humble he might seem. For the time being, he held onto what he felt was true, and that was his own opinion regarding androids – and how they were against him rather than on his side, no matter how many investigative ‘helpers’ they put on the team.

Gavin sighed.

“They’re designed to listen.” Each word was enunciated as he spoke with too much honesty, vision darkening as he glowered at his company across the table.

“ _My_ partner did,” he added with sarcastic emphasis, “for a while.” He knew the implication was left with the idea his android eventually awoke in the way so many others have before, taking in a deep breath to cue he was going to continue speaking.

“I’ve seen androids and humans work together more than once. Have you not done the same?”

Gavin felt the heat on his cheeks as he got lost in thought, reminiscing upon his better days with Nines as he remembered the interactions between them that _weren’t so bad._  Faking a smile, he threw Carl a convincing bow of his chin.

“Sure I have.” Gavin may have agreed verbally, but the adamance behind it was lost within.

“Willingly?” The way Carl glanced his way left him with a darkened gaze, pausing while he tried to determine the metaphorical relationship between _his_ android and _Carl’s_.

“No.” The word, holding its boldness, hovered in the air.

“Not at all.”

“I’m done assuming,” Carl croaked as he pushed his chair away, glancing upstairs in a silent signal for his _caretaker_ to come down for him. Gavin felt his patience thinning all the while.

“You think that’ll help?” Gavin’s eyes were stone cold.

“It’ll get me nowhere, and neither will this conversation at the moment. I would like to help you, but I can’t if you don’t explain what’s going on,” he elaborated, cuing a puzzled look from Gavin again.

“ _Help_ me? Do what, exactly?” His eyes followed the way Carl’s redirected, hearing the soft shuffling upstairs that he assumed meant Markus was taking care of more house chores Carl was unable to. While the mansion was incredibly large and spacious, it was highly decorated with a mixture of warm wood from the frames, the tables and chairs, the grand piano in the study, along with the paintings on the wall and large chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. Likewise, there were intricately designed skulls, a dinosaur skeleton hanging from the ceiling and a stuffed giraffe in the corner that looked uncomfortably real, beside the bookshelf that held knowledge and wisdom he couldn’t imagine himself fathoming.

For a moment, he tried to imagine what it might be like in Markus’ shoes; from what he knew, he was any other household android, designed to help and aid, just in Carl’s designated favor. Unique, a gift, but he still wondered about the model number, **RK200**. Classified police information but one that was known as long as you paid attention to the barcode printing on the android’s face in his speech video that told all the details in fine print. Funny that, how their human appearance could be erased easily, and a deactivated android could hold no secrets as taking away the synthetic skin revealed them for what they really were; complicated constructs of plastic and metal, a man-made fluid that somehow kept them running through the power of electricity, and nothing more, in his opinion.

He imagined being young, as was the only way to compare fairly in his mind, and wandering through the mansion while looking after an old man that he didn’t know. Administering medications, waking him up and putting him to bed, carrying him where he needed to be otherwise and running errands for him. Listening to his theories and thinking nothing of them within the limited confines of an android motherboard, before something happened that would make him _aware,_ and grow a bit older with the freshly open eyes as a _supposedly_ sentient being. That something happened that made him angry enough to go against those that he felt might have wronged him, and with that likeness, he contemplated the idea he may not be too different from androids as he thought.

Abuse was a rampant pattern in his life, and one he thought he was over once he’d finally gotten away from his father. It was a pattern RK900 must have discovered and fed upon, because he had never acted in the more brutal ways it had manifested. The nights it asked him about his personal life, digging up information he’d never told it about was as unsettling as the sensation of its diligent fingers tracing his scars while it silently requested their origins.

He told a few life stories and confessed more than enough family history, but 900 always seemed to be one step ahead, knowing more and more. _Too many things_ in his own opinion. The way it fed off his paranoia further proved his theory on the idea androids were constantly watching, listening, and recording. Tablet articles said so over and over, right next to the ones summarizing the way humans preferred social media over personal interaction, or even the excerpts about how  _new cars_ came with _new features_  and the fact an inanimate, artificial object could select which life to take first in a dangerous situation was forgotten in the depths of last week’s news.

Hank had his five – or fifteen, or fifty – minutes of fame more than once, something like the result of a mighty achievement from his time spent in class as well as training on the force. It wasn’t that long ago that Anderson was fighting his own way to the top, _lucky_ enough to be part of the big drug busts that got him there - _that_  was something Gavin considered a roll of the dice decided by fate, as red ice was becoming all the more popular and androids became easier and easier to get a hold of, and thus take apart and modify until they concocted something considered useful to the masses.

“With whatever you might need regarding your circumstances,” Carl said wittingly, though it didn’t explain much to Gavin.

“Remember, we’re on the same side, and if I could avoid the police slaughtering my son, I’d be more than inclined to become a martyr in his favor. Hopefully, however, I can avoid such a situation.” Gavin’s eyes narrowed at the idea of considering an android _family_ , let alone risking your life for one, even considering the fact Markus wasn’t quite as easily replaceable as the models he was used to, coming back again and again no matter _what_ damages their last chasses took. If Markus was destroyed, were his experiences lost forever? The concept didn’t matter much to him.

“I, er. Don’t plan on killing you or Markus,” Gavin said as plainly as he could, though the wrinkle between his brows showed his confusion.

"Isn't there something that you want?" Gavin shook his head.

"I mean, I've got a court case coming up and I don't wanna get sentenced for life, but otherwise I think I'm set." Gray eyebrows swiveled with thought and understanding.

"A court case? For an officer?" Gavin rubbed over the scar crossing the front of his neck and shrugged.

"Long story."

"I have time." Gavin pursed his lips in a thin line, staring somberly as he imagined the scenario of telling a stranger such personal life details.

"I don't," he copped out, though it didn't get past Carl that he was being avoidant as he hastily stood from his chair.

"Thanks for the chat, but--"

"Sit down," Carl half-demanded with a gesture of his arm back towards the table. Gavin paused with a puzzled look.

"What, do you have something more pressing to do than drink and tell an old man your woes? I won't tell you anything you haven't already heard, and your words won't leave the house if you don't want them to." Unable to think of a rebuke, he quietly sat back down.

"I shot a guy when I was younger. Before I was even a beat cop. There wasn't substantial evidence that I was guilty but now they're trying to paint _me_ as the bad guy." Brushing a hand along the frame of his jaw, Carl stared at him long and hard before speaking again.

"Ah, the irony that is the jurisdiction system," he mused, thinking over the concept of whether someone would get a fairer trial for being on the force, even if they were seen as a killer.

"I don't know too much about the Michigan police, so I imagine you're more aware of potential consequences than I am." Drumming his fingers on the table, Gavin chuffed.

"I had self-defense in my favor, but someone rummaged around to find proof towards ill intent. Pretty sure I'm being framed." Carl nodded slowly.

"Do you have anything in your favor?" Gavin shook his head with a deep, stabilizing breath.

"My career. My last promotion. But that might not last." He didn't care to mention the few other _slip ups_ he'd dealt with since joining the force, let alone his  _hobby_ of shooting androids. He could virtually _feel_  Markus' presence, those mismatch eyes that stared him down from across the table, despite the fact he'd gone upstairs minutes before.

"Do you have friends on the force? I respect it has to remain professional, but I imagine you could take what help you can get."

"Not really," he admitted with a sour expression at the matter. Carl accepted the statement with a grain of salt.

“I think you should consider the truth for yourself. Did you mean to kill the victim?”

 _Victim_ was a word that weighed heavily on the implication someone was entirely innocent against another that was _suspected_ as guilty, a term he’d played around with, but never imagined himself in the position of.

“Well yeah, he broke into my house with the intention to kill me,” he muttered, and the shift in Carl’s expression showed his uncertainty over what he’d heard so far.

“So, I assume you had the right to defend yourself?”

“Exactly,” Gavin uttered under his breath as he shifted himself in his seat, feeling tension clench his shoulders and the muscles leading down to his hands that gripped the sides of the chair seat a bit too tight.

“Then what are you worried about?” With a more awkward, nervous sneer, he ran a hand through his hair as he asked himself the same question: _what was he afraid of?_

“Losing my job. Going to jail. Anyone in my position would be.”

“Of course. But by the sounds of it, the odds are in your favor,” Carl reassured, although his gaze remained serious.

“I’m sure you can get a lawyer. That would help.”

“I’ll get anything I can take. I feel like my own people are against me, you know? All because of someone new nosing his way into everything.”

“Do you think he has something personal against you?”

“Pretty sure of it. He seems to be on the androids’ side, anyway.” Carl frowned.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Gavin nearly winced, trying to make himself relax again as the thought of his ever-familiar ex _partner_ came to mind, and suddenly all his scars and healing wounds began to sting again.

“I dunno. No offense to your, uh, friend, but androids have done a lot of damage. Our force is still itchin’ to hunt down and deactivate the fuckers.” Offense crossed Carl’s features as he leaned forward, searching Gavin’s eyes for any sense of hostility.

"Has an android personally harmed you?" Gavin's eyes flashed wide at the question.

"Yes," he responded a bit too hastily, bringing his hands up to the table to mimic the polite intertwining of fingers, idly rubbing the crease between his thumb and index finger as he tried to catch a grip on his anxiety.

 _Be grateful for everything I've done for you._  A reminder that never left him, despite the fact he knew better by now; the gaslighting façade had crumbled and rebirthed the awareness that the android served nothing good for him aside from its help on cases, _maybe_ with a touch of the behavioral training, but knew the way it spoke was only scapegoating for its own flaws, something that would be interesting if he cared more about the technicality of it all.

"My last partner was a bit, glitchy I guess." Rather than explaining or showing the more personal marks, he simply tapped his neck, next to the most evident, oldest scar from the night it swept its favored military knife across his throat; there was one just like it in his last pile of 'gifts'. Carl tilted his head with a stare of analysis.

"Want to elaborate?"

"Sure. Cat's out of the bag now," Gavin responded half to himself as he felt the same apprehension he did any time the subject came up. As much as he would have liked to keep it all to himself, it was too late for that, and maybe he _could_ get some help if he simply reached out for it.

"It was kinda my fault. I didn't treat it real nice, you know?" Pausing, he grit his teeth at the pronoun usage.

"He had a right to fight back, sure, but he fought a little too hard. Markus is designed to take care of you, right? Imagine the opposite of that. He'd hit me, then give me nice shit to try and make up for it. Typical abuse, but it's not like I could say anything about it."

Carl's expression turned to surprise, then dismay, furrowing his eyebrows with distrust before letting out a breath of recollection for himself.

"I know you said you wouldn't, but... please don't let this get out to anyone else. That model got shut down and replaced, but it's still kinda, er. Personal." Sensing Gavin's radiating shame, Carl nodded once, relaxing against the table as he eyed the other man's body language -- all of which seemed tense and anxious, sometimes showing itself in aggression, a demeanor he'd known well from his own son's struggles. He wondered if he saw part of Leo in this man, or if the comparison simply came from his own nostalgia.

"Where do you want to go from here, then? You have to make a choice. It might affect your career, and it may not, but everyone around you will be aware of it either way. _Do_ you want to work against androids? Or with them?"

Gavin held back his chortle at the question, as part of him still didn't take the idea seriously. Clasping his hand against his mouth, he cleared his throat, rubbing over the muscles in his cheeks that had grown sore from clenching his jaw.

"I've been assigned a different one, and I… _said_ I’d get along with him. Looks like I'm on their side." He bit back the _f_ _or now_  he was tempted to end the statement with. Carl seemed complacent by the response, leaning back to relax in his wheelchair.

"Would that partner advocate for you in a time of need?"

 _Connor_ was a different matter entirely, and one he'd never had expected to come into play so heavily. Connor was nearly popular by now, revered by their teammates for better or worse; human empathy fed into his kinder personality traits, and he'd proved himself a powerful aspect on the force. The fact his 'upgrade' was taken out of the picture while he remained spoke volumes.

"I don't know. I'm not exactly close to him," he admitted lowly, still grazing the short hairs on his cheeks between his fingers while he wondered exactly where Connor's ‘moral alignment’ lay. RK900 claimed not to know one, but Gavin wondered if the 800 developed an idea of such over his time of existence with the team, even between broken and battered chasses.

"It might help you to make a new friend, then," Carl replied simply, but Gavin's stare remained cold.

"Haha, yeah," he quipped with a nod that made his sarcasm evident, "I'll work on that."

Carl offered a smile, something between affirmation and condolence, wishing for him and his company not to part on a bad note.

"It was a pleasure to talk to you, detective Reed. It's good to get to know the people that are _protecting us_ ," he continued with a playful tone over the word, salting it with the irony he knew they were both aware of. Catching the fluctuation in his voice, Gavin's eyebrows raised, and he once more let go of his proper behavioral training so as to fold his arms across his chest, feeling immediately more comfortable from the defensive motion.

"Hey, I know I'm a crooked cop, but I also know I'm good at my job, alright?" Carl flashed him a smile, and he shook his head before granting one in return, even if it still showed that he wasn't entirely _sincere_ no matter how well his communication skills improved.

"You wouldn't be in your position otherwise, I assume." The agreement was taken as lightly as it was told, but Gavin saw the advantage for a closing conversation and was swift to take it.

"Sure as hell wouldn't be," he chimed in his best _polite_  voice, before standing up with the same finality as he had before.

"Anyways, nice meeting you, Mr. Manfred," he said with an extension of his hand, which was taken to shake, "But I should be heading home."

"Of course. You know where I am if you need me." Gavin saluted him before turning around to leave.

"Don't forget, Mr. Reed; we aren't your enemy." A smirk crossed Gavin's features as he walked out with the tall wooden doors closing behind him.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin takes the conversation with Carl to heart and expresses it in his own way.

“Hey, Connor,” Gavin greeted, prompting the android to stop in place, turning his head before he shifted the rest of his body to face Gavin’s direction in the motion of walking past him.

“Hello, detective Reed,” RK800 responded, a slight puzzled expression crossing his facial features with the usual inquisitive swivel of his eyebrows.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Gavin stood still in place, despite the restlessness crawling beneath his skin. Part of him felt frustrated with the idea of who he used to be, even if that person existed only weeks ago – the worst piece about the ultimately short time spent under RK900’s discipline was the fact that a majority of what it was trying to do worked so effectively, even Gavin didn’t always catch it – understanding now that it ultimately was reckless and _unnecessary_ for him to have acted the way he had before the fact, always expecting the world to fall into his lap by his demand simply because he commanded it to be so. Nines was an ‘experimental’ android; not a prototype but something beyond it, a mimicry machine designed to adapt and integrate in a less personal, yet much more direct manner than the RK800s he had come across, with their generally stoic-but-polite demeanor – at least, if you were on their side. Another reason he’d shot androids from a safe distance was the fact that after he’d seen what they were _capable of_ , he wasn’t exactly thrilled to get his limbs shredded by a metal computer that decided _he_ was a threat. The acknowledgement that he was the threat in the first place only surfaced recently, whirring in his mind and thus leading up to the situation he’d put himself into now.

RK900 was built to reflect him from the start, but he was too distracted and negligent to see it. Too busy treating a sentient machine as if it were an object and reacting with surprise when it started fighting back and demanding some sort of -- as his _new colleague_ had said, ‘respect’, or at least some over-the-top version of it -- he continued to feel closed in from his vivid memories of its actions. Every bunching of its eyebrows and shift of its pupils, each motion in its wrist when it lifted or placed his drinks, held him down or flicked the belt across his flesh, and the way it learned to deflect his aggression with a version of its own. The snide remarks, the insults, the ugly glares. The heavy, lengthy strides in its step when it crossed the room with its eyes stalking down his own. When his anger had somehow resonated within it until he was on the ground, beaten and bloody. Reminders of his own sadistic behaviors in the past followed him left and right, alongside the RK900 that still hid in the shadows as a phantom of his own paranoia, always watching with judgement while whispering sweet nothings in one ear and vicious demands in the other.

Gavin was well aware Connor was not RK900, and despite their similar external appearance and parallel internal algorithms, they were, ultimately, quite different. Unfortunately, Gavin didn’t know Connor well; he’d simply apologized because Nines asked him to. This time, he wanted to do it himself, _for_ himself, and not because an android had beaten him into submission over the fact.

“I, uh,” he stammered, pausing in place while he considered the question.

“Yeah. Actually,” he began, and Connor looked a bit surprised, unable to imagine anything he could help the detective with at any point in time, let alone right then.

“Well, I don’t need _you_ to do anything, but…I do.” Standing awkwardly in the hallway wasn’t exactly his ideal place for confessions, but he wasn’t sure when or where he’d get the chance otherwise.

“I don’t think I understand,” Connor responded, and Gavin shook his head, unable to help a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he’d almost forgotten how _naive_ this android was, especially in comparison to RK900.

“Haven’t got that far yet,” he pressed, trying to configure a way to put words together so they would make sense to both of them. He sighed, and Connor remained as still as ever, patiently listening.

“I just wanted to see…” Giving into the urge to fold his arms, he paused, forcing the reluctant part of his mind to spit out the sentiment.

“How you were doing.” Once Connor acknowledged that the phrase was easily recognized within his database, figuring out the emotions behind it and putting them together into a logical response was a more difficult process. He cast Gavin a sympathetic stare once he’d understood what he was getting at.

“Oh." They hesitantly stared at each other as a few seconds ticked by.

"Well enough, I suppose,” he responded halfheartedly, glancing to the side with a barely-noticeable shrug of mechanical shoulders.

“I mean…you can tell me the truth,” Gavin offered, although with the awareness that a sudden expectancy of honesty from someone like him wasn’t exactly a notion that would seem sincere.

“Is this…about…” Connor’s voice was stiff as he attempted to bury his internal poignance of the situation; from the RK900’s personal damage to Gavin, to Hank’s now rapidly-declining health and his own difficulty trying to convince his superiors he wanted to stay _alive_ when he was the one set up to _take care of the rest_ , as it were. His own deviancy had become apparent to those close to him, but trying to join Jericho now would put him in even more danger, and the heartbreak clutching his chest made it impossible to even _consider_ the idea of leaving Hank’s side. At work, there was no way of acting or speaking outside of his originally programmed behaviors, an intricate process he had to step in line with or he was as good as decommissioned.

“Yes,” Gavin hissed swiftly under his breath, dipping his head forward in indication that they shouldn’t be so _loud_ over the matter, particularly in a place such as the DPD. Connor looked somewhat surprised, but mostly startled by the anxiety that Gavin could recognize by one glance alone; the way brown eyes dilated and stared into the distance, trying to digest his surroundings for what they were with the seemingly disorganized programming he had at his disposal. Wary, Connor turned his head away from Gavin’s direction as the man shifted his weight and lowered his hands to his sides as he made his best attempt at presenting _politely_ despite the glower threatening to tear him down from the visage alone.

Remaining stiff, Connor stared at Gavin with the typical vacant gaze that he personally hated -- but this time he dug deeper into the visual connection, pondering just what it meant for an android to replicate human behavior down to eye contact and the intricate movements of speech, even only for show. Over time, Connor had responded differently to the verbal and physical behavior of humanity around ‘it’self, leaving Gavin always wondering if _he_ would stick around, what _he_ might do next, how long the _deviant-hunting-deviant_ might get away with his own antics for the pure sake of Cyberlife dismissing his existence entirely – for better or worse.

“I don’t think I can do anything to help you,” Connor offered with a burst of uncertainty beneath his breath, which Gavin quickly waved off with a nonchalant sway of his hand. It was effective nonetheless, Connor admired, realizing no one had interrupted them despite the strange subject matter of their discussion.

“No, it’s not…” Biting his tongue, Gavin remembered not to talk in such a way that might deter the android he was trying to initiate with.

“Look,” he insisted, catching the RK800’s brunette replicate eyes with his own and holding the android’s attention long enough to _listen_. The way RK800 responded so specifically, similar to how RK900 had in its early days – replicating human behavior with their own touch of personalized, polite and prim demeanor while they’d watch courteously, hands folded across their front or behind their back – an idea that always left his head spinning while he struggled to understand the exact differences between the recent RK models. At times like this, it was difficult not to pinpoint every similarity of their facial structures down to the same freckle. _Textures_ , he thought to himself, _like in video games. They just slapped the same thing onto a different doll._

Anderson had spent much more time with Connor than he personally had with Nines, and the difference was more apparent by the day, yet mostly within his head when his mind blanked at the idea of sentience within a computation device, an event that continued to baffle him with more cognizance than he was generally willing to offer. In his short time with the RK900, he’d learned little in favor of what the robot had discovered from himself, despite the android’s incessant need to monologue and monitor his behavior until he fell asleep, as it sometimes seemed.

“I just… I know a few words won’t make up for it. I already, er, _sorta_ apologized, but…it didn’t mean anything,” he said with a small huff of acknowledgement, frustrated at himself for getting stuck in these sorts of situations and taking a few seconds to think of what to say lest he shove his foot in his mouth. Connor watched him, expression seeming to soften with patience as he digested the sincerity in Gavin’s voice. Waiting his turn, he dipped his chin politely to show that he was listening without verbal response; unfortunately it left Gavin all the more uncomfortable being put beneath the metaphorical spotlight.

“There’s no way I can take back what I did. I know that.” Uttering such words was ultimately some sort of _painful_ , but it was the strange guilt stirring within him that continued driving him forth. Connor stared attentively, digesting his words for what they were as well as he could.

“Sorry for trying to take you down. I thought you were getting in the way of my success, but…after what I went through, I can tell you’re really just here to help. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you. You’re Anderson’s partner, anyways. I didn’t have much to do with it.” This time, Connor’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, showing he didn’t expect more than another _sorry_ , let alone an explanation, alongside the fact Gavin realized what he’d done wrong and admitted so out loud. Perhaps he really has changed.

“I appreciate that,” Connor offered in response, but his puzzled expression showed he was still a bit perplexed.

“And the insults, and the threats,” Gavin continued in a quieter voice, feeling the blush creep across his cheeks from the embarrassment of confessing his own faults. Taking the blame for something that he’d directly caused wasn’t something he was practiced at, and Connor could tell, leading him to eventually accept the apology for the entirety of what it was once he could tell it was _sincere_.

“Thank you,” Connor responded with a halfhearted smile.

“It doesn’t matter now, and I understand why you had acted the way that you did.” It was Gavin’s turn to look confused, dimming his gaze with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head, silently prompting Connor to elaborate.

“Androids are a threat to humanity and their civilization. That’s why I exist, after all. As to why I’m still here…” his opticals grew distant as he shrugged lightly, and a pang of something rang in Gavin’s chest that he did his best to ignore. As time went on and his interactions with other people expanded, he’d started to see why Nines shoved down every affrontive emotion it had come across, as he did exactly the same thing; and he was the one it learned from, after all.

“Right,” Gavin rang with acknowledgement, side-eyeing the android as he nodded once.

“So what’s the verdict? They gonna toss you in the scrap bin?” Connor acknowledged his callous phrasing, as it always was with Gavin, before offering one of his single-sided smirks. The subject was difficult, but he wasn’t sure exactly how much sympathy was offered over the matter, whether they made amends or not.

“I suppose I’ve only been delaying the inevitable,” he said with a small sigh that followed, a behavior Gavin noted he’d never seen from the android before. Then again, he hadn’t paid much attention, not really knowing Connor too well in the first place – or whatever personality was integrated into him. Every once in a while, he still saw Nines’ face, constantly reminding himself that while Connor could be just as callous, the androids and their intentions were significantly different. A bold fear rang in the back of his mind and tugged at the memories, making him somewhat afraid the same thing might happen to RK800, before canceling out the thought with the fact it was Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s android, and while Connor would likely pick up a lot of that older man’s bitter attitude, he knew he was one of the safest, best people on the team to work with, and likely why Connor hadn’t been thrown out yet at all. The situation of RK900 already being gone, so swiftly after constantly being at his side for those couple of months still resonated in him with an unfamiliar feeling. It showed he hadn’t quite adapted to the concept yet as he’d still glanced over his shoulder, always expecting it to be hovering beside him.

“I’m still a prototype, and the new model is already here. I think if the lieutenant’s…accident, hadn’t taken place,” he continued with the typical lack of tact he always seemed to carry, “they might not have been so sympathetic. We’re starting to have politics now…if I’m lucky, maybe I won’t get thrown out after all.” The word _lucky_ was weighted, heavy in his throat as he felt the vibration of his own speaker with the depth of the word, one of those more _human_ inflections to his character post-deviancy.

“Huh. And here I thought he didn’t like you,” Gavin stated with his usual boldness, shifting back to one heel and digging the nails of his fingers into his palms without much thought as the tension of his old and worn fight-or-flight instincts tried to kick up. At what, he wasn’t sure, as the anxiety was a majority of what he dimmed down with the alcohol in-between taking his prescribed medications designated for him and _his_ brain alone, a thought that still thoroughly disturbed him. The fact they seemed to actually work if he was consistent with them for a few weeks straight was predominantly haunting, but the ritual was rare. His mind wasn’t so organized, no matter how hard RK900 tried to change and repair it.

“He didn’t,” Connor responded immediately, tipping his head slightly to the side in another subtle matter that made Gavin’s fingers curl.

“Not at first, and I’m sure I’m still not his favorite person to be around, but I know there’s been worse.” Blinking, he noticed the accidental enunciation of an otherwise general phrase, averting his gaze with a meek expression while he quickly thought of what to say next to counteract the awkwardness. Gavin’s glared pointedly, and Connor felt like _he_ should take a step back, but lifted his head to face him as he’d already learned avoidance only tended to worsen moments like this.

“…My turn to apologize, I suppose. Cyberlife limits the information they share, and as it’s usually me reporting to them, I see why the situation was challenging. I’m sorry it went on as long as it did.”

Gavin didn’t know what to do with the sympathetic statement, struck with a blank expression as his hands uncurled by his sides, tension easing. _That was nice to hear_. It was better than anything he’d heard from anyone, and he paused in a moment to try and appreciate the gesture, but it wasn’t such an easy pill to swallow.

“I realize the intention was that no one was to know, but I’m glad that we do. Maybe now we can do something about it.” With his head turning away, Connor less-than-subtly glanced in the direction of Fowler’s office, a directive of opinion wrapped up in a minuscule communication that he was well aware Gavin would nonetheless understand. After a moment, he moved to face him again, lifting his chin in a moment of self-recollection while he tightened the knot of his tie out of what might as well be ingrained habit.

“Thank you for communicating with me, Detective Reed. I know it isn’t your greatest asset, and I’m not exactly your best friend, either – but I appreciate not being shot on a regular basis, more than I already am on the job.” Gavin nearly looked baffled by the bold, nigh on wittiness of the phrase, and the wink flashed his way was something he’d never personally seen between _either_ of the RK models; meaning Connor had learned it or was pre-programmed to come off as charming as much as he did inquisitive, determined, and sometimes nearly adolescent in nature. _Childish_. Was that part of the attraction?

With the dismissal of the supposedly _superior_ model, it was easier to see and better understand Connor’s differences down to the smaller quirks. With a pained attempt at a smile, Gavin squinted as it reoccurred to him how long he’d been on the force without his precious pistol. The memory of having it shoved into his mouth while gleaming, cold silver eyes targeted him sent an uncomfortable shudder through his body.

Connor gestured Gavin to follow him. Confused, but interested, he stepped behind him as Connor made way to the break room. Avoiding the coffee machine, the android stepped over to the water dispenser, pouring some fresh, cold filtered liquid into one of the Styrofoam cups before holding it out to Gavin, predetermining another smack to the arm as he assumed the drink would be knocked from his hold, a prediction based off the fact he’d done it before rather than the assumption he may not this time.

“I know it annoys you, but even I am designed to keep my teammate’s best interest in mind. Coffee and alcohol will dehydrate you worse, and you’re in bad shape already.”

“Thanks, _doctor_ ,” was all Gavin quietly countered with as he took the cup and gulped down the contents, surprised to find how energizing it was to hydrate with something cold and refreshing. Connor offered a more genuine smile, snagging the cup before Gavin had the chance to toss it so he could refill it and offer it back; Gavin already agreed, _it was annoying_ , but said nothing of it.

“Whatever. At least I don’t have to deal with the new android on the team this time. You, er, seen that weasel yet? Don’t remember his name, don’t really care.” Connor acknowledged the lack of transition words in his sentences, a habit he hadn’t seen come from Gavin in long enough he had to track back on his internal calendar to recall the last incident, which appeared to be five and a half weeks ago, minus a few hours. A sense of depression weighed him down at the realization, noticeable by the slouch of his shoulders and the weary gaze in his eyes as he handed Gavin the refilled cup of water. Gavin took it, but held onto it meanwhile as he listened to Connor speak.

“Peter Maximillian Schwarz. He’s an FBI agent that’s been on the international operations since he was twenty-two, an unusual occurrence as most people have to pass through numerous study courses first, as you know,” Connor continued with a look of confusion at himself for over-explaining.

“The German police force was impressed enough by his wit they took him on as soon as he could, as he’d easily passed the college tests that most aged professors wouldn’t be able to finish. He’d be a contestant even to our chief and lieutenant, so frankly, I’m glad he’s on our team,” he elaborated, gaining a miffed, but interested quirk of Gavin’s eyebrows, cheeks puffing in thought and crinkling the lines around his nose and narrowed eyes.

“Nothing should change for you and me aside from the fact we have extra help with our most difficult investigations. On the bright side, once you and Anderson graduate, then you’ll be the next highest-up on the team,” he said with a nigh on chipper tone. With an involuntary smirk tugging at his features, Gavin quickly hid it behind his cup as he took a slower, smaller sip from it.

“What about Collins?” Connor shook his head, a subtle twitch flickering in the corners of his eyelids, that infamous blue LED rotating a few times as he relayed information about the co-worker in the usual motion of relisting the data from his archive, ensuring it was correct.

“Well,” he began, and the way he seemed to _grimace_ was another response Gavin hadn’t seen before.

“He hasn’t been too eager to work here since he started, from what I do know. With people like you, Anderson and androids like myself and _others_ on the team, his work has been, well…” Connor let out a gust of air he didn’t mean to retain.

“He’s going to file for early retirement, and I don’t exactly blame him.” Gavin didn’t seem shocked.

“He’s still got six years before they’ll even consider him,” Gavin noted. Connor acknowledged the statement with subtle agreement by blinking in his general direction and another slight nod that wouldn’t be noticeable if he wasn’t paying attention. While 900 was subtle, he appreciated that Connor was a bit more _animated_ in aspect of personality – predesigned or otherwise – as his previous ‘partner’ wouldn’t extend more movement than it deemed necessary, hence its consistent statue-esque, stoic gaze no matter the situation, thus resonating its characteristic soullessness. Connor was polite and interactive, and this wasn’t the first time he’d considered the differences between them, as the similarities might otherwise send his mind crumbling once more.

“Without providing too much personal information, let’s say he has negative mental health in his favor. While there is not much lenience, as times change, so do laws and regulations. Let’s hope he gets lucky.”

This was the second in one conversation time he’d heard Connor mention _luck_ , as if it were up to an interpretive roll of some divine dice that would make the circumstances change, even though a supercomputer would know every detail of the algorithms between law and government that he could never comprehend. Did Connor believe in fate, or was it a phrase for lack of not knowing the future, specifically?

“And if he’s not?” Connor pursed his lips into a fine line, worrying his teeth against the internal ‘skin’.

“Then he continues working as a detective until then, unless he can prove his hard work otherwise.”

Lost in a moment of thought, Gavin contemplated the rank of everyone in the DPD in a mental chart he’d memorized, half makeshift from their positions in a visual chart listed top to bottom, from Chief Fowler to officers Chen and Miller.

“Right,” Gavin responded, and while empathy resonated in his chest, he didn’t have the words to label it for what it was. Something ached, something strange, something like _caring_. The way he’d become closer to his coworkers, and even his new _neighbors_ through his suffering was an odd concept in itself, and the involuntary responses throughout his mind and body weren’t generally enjoyable, let alone easy to adjust to. While he worked so hard to achieve his means, he’d forgotten that many people could do their best and more, yet still fall short – of all things, he should know. The idea of his upcoming court date floated through his mind, immediately dismissed with a sigh.

“What about you, Gavin?” There was a sense of innocence in Connor’s voice that he caught onto, as well as the use of his first name, an unusual moniker among peers in a professional setting.

“What are you going to do now?” Leering, Gavin drank down the rest of his water, catching Connor’s eye with a half-smirk as he quickly tossed the empty cup to the trash and even making it into the bin this time with enough speed to intercept any more of Connor’s _courteous_ gestures.

“Same as always,” he said gruffly, darkened by a lack of confidence.

“Work the daily grind ‘til I go home and finish my routine for the night. Rinse, repeat.” Connor wasn’t sure what that meant, and was also unsure whether he should ask, so he didn’t.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visitation hours.

Laying down in a summer breeze kept the gruesome sensations at bay. It was a place Hank knew best; the park beside the river, where the playground was snowed over as it had every winter. Thoughts of his son riddled his mind, memories of his jovial, youthful voice he was so grateful to hear, and the sight of that smile he was always so happy to see. The boy his ex-wife decided was his obligation, and so he took it, the extra responsibility weighing practically nothing on the scale of life and work. Cole was nothing but a blessing and not a day went by that he didn't think about him.

Stirring from his dreams, the pain searing throughout his body settled in and rose him to a conscious world as he heard the distant words of the nearby nurse. Something about stable vitals, administering more morphine and the fact he had a visitor, which was the final statement that finally roused him into slowly opening his eyes, letting his blurry vision adjust to clarity.

"Thanks, Shan," he piped, though his voice was hoarse as his throat still felt hashed from the fire, offering the best smile he could with what little energy he had. The nurse returned the sentiment as she changed the tubing of his IV, setting some crackers with soup and a banana on the table by his bed as a signal that he could eat if he so felt like it, but there was no real pressure to do so. Hank was mostly grateful to be off tube feeding, a small, but important sign that he'd been healing. Something positive, he thought; one good sign in his life of seemingly never-ending turmoil.

"Who's visitin'?" Nurse Shannon smiled at him, though it was uncertain.

"Oh, just someone you already know," she said wryly while she adjusted the tubes that lead to the needle embedded in his arm and ensured the medication dosage was adequate. Hank rose his eyebrows with a close of his eyes, gratefully accepting the fact he’d have any visitors at all, let alone anyone that he’d personally known.

\----  
"Hey." Gavin's voice was low and assertive as Hank always remembered it being, yet the stature he wore was unusual. A dark brown suit that framed his figure in a way that only a tailored measure could fit, complimenting a slick combover framing his chiseled, freshly-shaven features. The coal-colored tie flattered his eyes in a way that was dictated in a manner Gavin would have never taken the time to even bother understanding. When Hank thought about it, he couldn't remember when he'd last seen _Detective Gavin Reed_ in his typical t-shirt, jeans and the infamous leather hooded jacket loosely covering his figure, worn from the years of wear.

Nonetheless, ebony velvet didn't suit him.

"Good to see ya," he greeted, but the harshness of his voice made Gavin cringe. Fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest, he kept his stiff stature, as had become nearly second nature as long as he kept in tune with _those_ behaviors in particular.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Gavin snapped, and the venom in his voice was nearly welcoming.

"Still bitter?" Their eyes met and they shared a moment of hostile silence.

"Always. You'd know." Hank preferred the sting of physical bullets against the metaphorical ones sinking into his heart.

"What are you here for, Reed?" Formality didn't come so naturally to the Lieutenant, no matter what position he held.  
Gavin's eyes narrowed, but his position didn't change. Hank closed his eyes, taking in a long, deep breath that came out ragged.

Gavin huffed.

"Is it my fault?" Listening, Hank brought a hand up to reach for the soup by the bed, now cooled to a tolerable lukewarm temperature. Taking a slow sip, he paused to savor the flavor before he responded.

"Are you really blaming yourself for a machine's actions, Reed?" He couldn't help the smug grin tugging at his cheeks, and cold gray eyes reflected their usual glare at him; with Gavin Reed in nice dress and Anderson in bandages and burn scars, neither of them were terribly well-recognized by sight, but each knew one another's personality over the years of working together that neither of them could forget.

"If you want to think of it that way, blame it on the RK900. It gave you the car, didn't it?" Gavin's shoulders slouched as he was struck silent once more.

"Y’know, I've been meaning to ask you a few questions about that wretched thing," he stated as clearly as he could with his roughened voice. Gavin remained quiet.

"Think now's a good time?" His smile faded in its smug demeanor as he opened his eyes, and Gavin exhaled a breath of relief unintentionally held.

"Good as ever, don't think you're goin' anywhere anytime soon," Gavin struck, and guilt stabbed into is chest as if in immediate reprimand. Hank scoffed as his smile disappeared.

"You don't say. Well then, tell me; what else did it give you?" Gavin's gaze remained as somber as it was dumbstruck.

"Er, it'd be easier to list what it _didn't_ ," he quipped, but it was more difficult to avoid the nervous tics than usual whenever he thought of it again. A painful sting dug into his side, causing him to noticeably flinch, but Hank seemed to pay no mind.

"Sorry." Hank narrowed his vision at the apology, but listened attentively.

"Anyways, you know, American dream type shit. Everything I could ever need for my career, new house, new car, a full bank...I mean, nice, quality stuff," Gavin continued, taking advantage of the chance to vent far away from nosey eavesdroppers.

"The richest man alive couldn't have bought that car. It's not _sold_ yet." Hank wrinkled his nose with skeptical confusion.

"Oh, and uh, I live across from the android messiah and the crippled old bastard, too--" he flinched again.

"S--"

"You apologize to me one more time, Reed, I'll give you somethin' to be sorry about," he groused, and Gavin rolled his eyes in spite of himself.

"It bought you a house across from the Manfred mansion?" It sounded fancier than he thought of it; Gavin nodded in confirmation.

"Just down the road. Visited 'em for dinner," he panned out, and it was Hank's turn to grimace.

"Gavin... like it or not, but that 900 turned you into an important figure." Gavin huffed, turning away as if he could avoid facing the problem as he rubbed his forehead between his thumb and index finger.

"Don't you think I know that?" _Accusatory statements,_ the smooth, but stern voice in his memory reminded him. Hank's stare was harsh enough he forgot to twitch.

"Yeah, great, I get to leave my dreams and impress my father." Hank's lips pressed into a stiff line of thought.

"I should be happy, right?" The glossiness in his eyes expressed the way he felt, which might as well have been the exact opposite.

"Who told you that?" At a loss for an answer, the younger male sighed.

"I dunno. Nines, probably."

" _Nines_?" It sounded like nails grating chalkboard, the sarcastic overtone driving home a point he'd never thought twice about; he'd given it a _nickname_.

"Uh, yeah, you know, RK900 got to be a bit of a mouthful," he trailed off with avoidance, feeling the uncomfortable heat prickling into the back of his neck.

"Yeah, s'a bit weird they didn't give it a name, huh?" Hank coughed after his sentence, before taking a moment to catch his breath.

"The damn thing set you up for success then pulled the red carpet from under your feet," Hank groused as he thought over the situation for all it was worth.

"Tch, tell me about it," Gavin bounced right back.

"Connor said you apologized to him. Didn't think you'd kiss and make up," he continued, realizing the connotations only after the words left his mouth.

"That thing still working on your cases?" Hank dipped his chin as a nod.

"You want him? Can't say he performs as uh, _top notch_ , but it seems like you could use the help." Gavin's fingers curled into fists as his heart grew heavy in his chest, cuing Hank to angle his head with a sidelong gaze.

"You don't mean that," Gavin tried to shut down, but Hank's stubborn gaze was as well-aged as he was.

"You really wanna deal with your cases on your own? Without me on the team?" Gavin paused.

"I mean, I've been doing it 'til Nines showed up. Why couldn't I now?"

"Agent _Schwarz_ is why," Hank replied pointedly; Gavin deflated.

"Even Fowler's outranked if he's working with us. At least Perkins is quiet, for the most part," he said with a tone of adamant spite.

"You think Connor's gonna help? Schwarz has got the new one, from the new line - he's outranked too."

"But you'll have a better chance with his help, trust me. Prototype or not, he's a good android, and most of all, he's an android; he can run for miles, he can analyze and calculate things we can't even fuckin' see. I know he's not your friend, detective, but..." Letting out a weary exhale, he let his eyelids grow heavy over his soft blue eyes, casting Gavin a feeble look of defeat.

"He's mine. And he might be the best chance we've got. I know you're under a lot of pressure... I'm sure you remember when I was," he jested with a soft chuckle that ended in a wheeze, and Gavin averted his vision to the food at the bedside table as if it were more interesting than their conversation at hand.

"Yeah, sure I do. Still don't know how you deal with it all." He flashed Hank a smirk, though it was gone as quickly as it came.

"You really want me working with Connor, huh? First your dog, now the android too? Soon you'll be passing me your hand-me-downs and I'll start getting tacky Christmas sweaters." Hank chuckled warmly without so much of a cough.

"With that attitude you're getting a robot puppy _in_ a Christmas sweater." Gavin half sneered, half smirked with a witty gaze, relaxing his posture and shifting his weight to one leg.

"Yeah, I promise he's not as bad as you think. Plus, I can almost guarantee he won't try to kill you," he continued, his voice sprinkled with jest while his gaze remained solemn. Somehow, Gavin felt relieved; it was true enough, he figured. If Connor meant to hurt the team, he would be by now. RK900 struck him with his own bullshit three weeks in, but Connor was still around after _months_ , even though he was well outdated by now, something else that kept him wondering.

"Okay. You gonna tell him that, or do I get to do the honors?" Hank smiled, slowly shaking his head.

"He visits me before the workday even starts, in the morning. Can't say it's the worst alarm, 'n' he doesn't smack me awake anymore," he added with a laugh, but noted Gavin's confused glower.

"That’s to say he's a bit of an asshole, too. I think you two will do just fine together." Recognizing that as a personal jab, however, Gavin raised his eyebrows with a scoff.

"Tch, just what I need, a _different_ asshole partner." Hank noted that he said partner rather than some derogatory term for androids, silently appreciating the sentiment.

"He's learned a thing or two about personal boundaries in his time with me, but I can't guarantee anything. However..." With a quiet grunt from the strain of effort, Hank slowly sat up, tilting his chin up as he caught Gavin's eyes.

"If he does anything, anything at all that don't feel safe with, you call it off then, and if he doesn't listen, you call for help. I know trusting androids only gets us so far, but he might interact with you differently and I can't ignore the fact all of them are capable of harm. Understand?" Gavin scowled, but it lifted into a more genuine smile as he thought over the idea.

"Alright, _Lieutenant_ ," he responded with a certain sarcasm Hank already recognized as he mimicked Connor's oddly fluctuate way of speaking.

" _Got it._ " 


End file.
